


The Hunt For The White Rabbit

by Sambaris



Category: The Matrix (Movies), Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Car Chases, Conspiracy, Crossover, Gen, Gunplay, Moral Dilemmas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:40:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25552948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sambaris/pseuds/Sambaris
Summary: Judy and Nick get a new assignment: to track a hacker named Roland. Agent Smith, a mysterious governmental operative, tells them that they are protecting Zootopia by doing it; but very soon they find out that the truth is much more complex.
Kudos: 3





	The Hunt For The White Rabbit

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Охота на белого кролика](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9530621) by [Sambaris](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sambaris/pseuds/Sambaris). 



Bogo was in a bad mood. Nick could easily see the captain's real emotions through a disguise of an ostentatious rudeness and a perpetual grudge; and now it was obvious for him that something’s wrong. The Captain issued daily orders without even lifting his eyes from the paper. He didn't respond to Nick’s joke about hamsters and a hurricane; he didn’t even slam the door when he left the office.  
Of course, nobody noticed a thing. Fernandez and his team immediately headed for the exit, McHorn and Castor returned back to the discussion of yesterdays baseball game, and Judy dived into papers, as usual. During the last two weeks she was working on a completely hopeless case of a fraud in “Lemming Brothers” bank, and a frightening pile of financial documents on her deck have been growing ever since. Nick already suggested more than once to refer the matter to the Bureau - they have much more experience in financial investigations then the police - but Judy has already entered her I-Never-Give-Up mode, and Nick throwed in the towel. He knew it’s futile to even try to convince her of anything when she’s like this.  
Anyway, right now something had to be done about Bogo. In less than an hour, Nick was expected to report his current case progress to the Captain, and he needed the chief to be in a good mood for that. He was going to try to turn the whole story into a joke, to laugh together over this goof-ball Charlie, who managed to not just fail a simple burglary, but also leave his driver's license at a crime scene. And he calls himself a fox! When Nick was at his age ... Well, those were the days.  
This kid, however, cannot go to prison, it will break him. But Bogo wouldn’t listen when he is in such a mood. Fill in the formal report, transfer the case to the court, everything exactly by the book. That will simply not do.  
First thing first: Nick had to know who or what put Captain out of his temper. And there is one person who definitely knows that - simply because he knows everything going on in this building.  
Nick grabbed a bag of donuts from his locker and went to the hall.  
Clawhauser was reading a magazine. On the cover there was a photo of a modestly smiling rabbit, the headline sayed “Playboy owner gives an interview”.  
Nick knew far too well what was hiding behind this self-confident smile on the photo. This bunny controlled half of catnip market in state; the police and Mr. Big’s bears were racing one another when hunting down pushers on the streets of Zootopia. Very different methods, but a common goal. The city should be protected from this muck at any cost, even if it means turning a blind eye to some of mr. Big’s operations.  
Nick sighed. The work at the police turned out to be not as simple and plain as he thought it would be. An outlaw was not always a villain; sometimes a good citizen could be a bigger problem than a seasoned criminal. It's actually amazing that Judy, with all her idealism and righteousness, takes all this for granted.  
Well, she has always been smart. Nick sometimes admitted to himself that she is much smarter than him. It was a frightening thought.

With his best smile on, Nick approached Clawhauser.  
\- Hey, dude, what’s up? Anything interesting going on?  
\- Nick, you silly scoundrel! - Clawhauser threw the magazine on the table and stretched arms, almost dropping his chair in the process, - let me guess, you are going to try and bribe me with those donuts, because you want to disappear for the rest of today, and you will ask me to cover it up?  
\- Why should I want to disappear? Do you know something I don’t? Oh, and by the way, I don’t remember mentioning any donuts.  
\- Come on, Nick, I'm still a cheetah. In the primeval jungle I can smell a wild donut a mile away! Just kidding. I know I’m not the only one here with a sweet tooth.  
\- No, no, you’re right, those are for you. But please tell me, why would I want to disappear? Why the fuss?  
\- Oh, so you do not know? You see, some bloke, a hyena in a fancy business suit, came to Bogo’s office early today, and they had an argument. This hyena wants you and Hopps for some off-the-record task, and Bogo can’t simply chuck him out for some reason. Both are still there, by the way. So, I guess, they are still arguing. If I was you, I wouldn’t want to be caught in a crossfire.  
\- Hyena in a suit? Is he from the mayor's office? Or is he one of Mr. Big’s?  
\- Oh come on, I know everyone who works for either of them. No, it’s not it. He’s somehow important, but he is a brand new animal in town. My first thought was that it’s the Bureau. But… There is this thing about the Bureau, - Clawhauser moved his paw in the air broodingly, as if to drive away annoying flies, - Bureau agents are always trying to show us their superiority. That they have more authority, that all most important cases go to them, things like that. This attitude, you can’t mistake it if you’ve seen it once. But this hyena? He’s different. No attitude. No emotions at all. He didn’t even look at me when I tried to talk to him.  
No, he is definitely not from the Bureau. So my guess is: a three-letter agency. Some of the more clandestine ones.  
Darn, I hate those guys. And so does Bogo, by the way. You see, there was a case once...  
Suddenly a familiar roar from the upper floor interrupted Clawhauser:  
\- Wilde! Hopps! In my office, now!  
Nick flinched. His intention to improve the chief's state of mind obviously failed even before he started... Nick put the bag of donuts on the counter, briefly smiled good-bye, and ran upstairs. When the Captain shouts like this, it is better not to be late.  
When Nick walked into the chief's office, Judy was already inside. There also was another visitor, a hyena described by Clawhauser: a blank muzzle, an expensive suit, and square sunglasses. Nick immediately noticed an earpiece, its wire hiding somewhere behind the hyena’s collar. Well, if this guy tried to hide the fact that he’s some kind of secret agent, then he obviously failed. They dress like that only in movies and comic books... This whole situation should seem funny by this point. But for some reason, it didn’t. Something very serious was going on. Nick could feel it in the air.  
\- All right, listen up. Wilde, Hopps, you’ll hand over your current cases to other detectives, and from this point on and until further notice you both will follow orders of this wanker here. He’s called Agent Smith. - Bogo waved a hoof toward the visitor with obvious disgust. - He's got a task for the Zootopia police, and yes, we will provide required assistance.  
The Captain's voice was so intense that Nick realized: there was a full-fledged dust-up in this room just a minute ago. Smith was keeping a perfectly deadpan expression on the muzzle, like he was not even here. Probably a good poker player. Nick decided that he doesn’t want to check.  
Judy’s ears started fluttering, which usually happened when she was really agitated. She bounced out of a chair and immediately ended up two feet lower, so Bogo had to bend down to see her properly.  
\- But, Chief, this case I’m on, about fraud in “Lemming Brothers”, I can’t just give it up! The time is of the essence! It will take too long for someone else to study all details, and the criminals will be able to cover their tracks! Chief, give me at least three more days…  
\- Quiet! Hopps, I don’t care what you think about it, you will hand over the case to Francine, and this discussion is over! - Captain deafeningly banged on the table with his hoof, and Judy silently swallowed her next word.  
\- Now you, Wilde. I know that the offender in your current case was a fox. And I know exactly what you think about it. I also know that no real harm was done this time, so I’ll try to soft pedal it, limit to a warning or a penalty charge. McHorn will take the case from you, I’ll talk to him.  
And that’s enough chatter. You have a problem at hand, so go and solve it. Oh, and one more thing. An icing on the cake, so to speak. Whatever you do on this assignment is highly confidential. You don’t talk about it with anyone, including even myself. No official reports, no gossip and the like. And Hopps, - Bogo gave Judy a long unwinking stare. - No contact with the press whatsoever. Even if it’s another scandal of the century. You have already dumped two mayors of this city, and that is more than enough. I don’t know why this Smith needs you, and I don’t intend to find it out in the morning newspaper. So please be so kind and avoid media frenzy this one time.  
Right. Smith, get out. Our briefing room is two doors down the hall, the detectives will join you there in a minute.  
Smith silently stood up and headed for the door. He didn’t respond to the captain, he didn’t even look at his two new subordinates. Barely audible creak of the door, and he was gone. Bogo sighed.  
\- Man, how in the world do I hate those scoundrels. It’s a shame that we don’t really have a choice. He demanded my best detectives, so you will have to work with him for some time. Try to give him what he wants from you quickly, and then return to the precinct. You have a lot of work here. Dismissed.  
Nick stood up and moved to the door. He had never seen the Captain like this. He tried to find a suitable word to describe it. Here it is: helpless. Bogo was always in control of any situation, and now he suddenly found himself unable to stand up against the mysterious agent in dark glasses.  
Nick opened the door and let Judy pass. It was clear by her look that she is intently thinking about something. Maybe she is going through paragraphs of police regulations in her mind, recollecting whatever she knew about the interaction between the police and intelligence services? It’s no use anyway. Technically, there is no law that would require the police to obey in such a situation. But as a matter of actual practice, these inconspicuous figures in dark suits are above any law. Nick suddenly thought about a book he once read in his childhood. It was a story about four dogs, brave musketeers in the service of some medieval king. There was an episode when their enemy, a cat called Milady, was able to acquire and successfully use an official document saying "Anything done by this person has been done for the benefit of the realm". It seems that the black ops operatives from all over the world are using this trick ever since, and it still works perfectly well.

Smith was looking out the window. When Nick and Judy went in, it seemed he didn’t even notice it. Paws clasped behind his back, the tail dangled near the floor. Nick thought about telling some joke to break the awkward silence, but Judy dug him in the ribs even before he opened his mouth. She did know him well. And in this case, perhaps, she was right: it doesn’t seem that this guy likes jokes. Nor, for that matter, it does seem that he likes anything at all. He seemed more like a mannequin then a living animal…  
Smith turned around, took a long pause, and finally started speaking.  
\- Miss Hopps, Mr. Wilde. Captain Bogo told me that you are his best detectives. I have read your personal profiles, and I am quite satisfied. I have a task for you.  
Judy immediately came into attack.  
\- Look, Mr. Smith, or whatever your real name is. I do not know what kind of organization you represent and how do you have such authority to give orders to the Police Captain, but really, don’t you have your own operatives? Why use us? We have a lot of our own work! Maybe it’s not that secret, but it’s definitely important!  
\- Calm down, Carrots, they just run out of funeral suits. - Nick smiled. - All agents are out shopping, no one left to do the real work...  
Smith didn’t smile. He did not respond at all, he was looking only at Judy.  
\- This case requires police involvement, because we need your sources of information. Snitches, undercover agents, the like. We do have unlimited access to any electronic systems, archives, cameras, messengers and emails, but this is not enough. Person that we are looking for is too good at hiding from them. He went off the radar half a year ago, and since then we didn’t have a single clue.  
My colleagues… They believe that the police can’t help us. But I tend to disagree with them.  
Smith took a few steps forward, stopped right in front of Judy, and suddenly dropped to one knee. Their eyes were now on the same level, and Smith took off his dark glasses. Judy shivered under his gaze and reflexively pressed her ears to the back of her head, as if trying to become smaller and less noticeable.  
\- I've been watching you, Ms. Hops. I studied you. You are different from everyone else. It seems to me that it is you - and you only - who can find Roland.  
\- Who is this Roland? - Nick asked. He tried to draw Smith’s attention, make him look away from Judy. There was something creepy about this hyena, something sinister. Nick couldn’t allow him to look at Judy like this. He could feel the danger emanating from Smith. Hair on Nick’s tail stood on end reflexively when Smith turned his head and looked at him.  
In the deepness of his eyes there was death. Purified, distilled, concentrated stronger than the purest nighthowler sample in the forensic lab. Nick couldn’t tear his eyes away from the eyes of Smith, as if it was not a hyena, but a king cobra.  
\- Roland is a hacker. One of the best and most dangerous in the world. He is on the international wanted list for crimes that qualify as terrorism and high treason. He leaves almost no traces, but there is something that we do know about him. All materials are here. - Smith put a thin black USB stick out of his pocket. It took a few seconds for Nick to reach out his paw and take a piece of black plastic. It emanated danger, like an armed grenade.  
Smith once again put on his sunshades, and his hypnotic gaze disappeared behind black glasses, but Nick didn’t feel much better. He knew that Smith was still looking at him, and imagination immediately brought back the image of those fearsome unblinking eyes.  
\- We know for sure that Roland didn’t leave Zootopia. Find him. My phone number is on the flash drive, in case you need any help.  
Smith got up, walked around motionless Judy and left the room without saying another word. Nick turned to Judy. Her nose quivered, she was breathing heavily. Nick hugged Judy, and she sobbed quietly in his arms. Well, there was at least something good about Smith: Nick didn’t hug Judy like this for a long time. Hell of a long time.  
Nick suddenly caught himself smiling. Once again they are going to work together. Once again they have a common enemy. Once again, after three months of routine, everything goes as it should.

The computer beeped and asked for a password. It wasn’t a surprise that the flash drive was encrypted; but there was a catch: it was encrypted with Judy’s personal cryptographic key. Nobody, not even Bogo, should have access to it. Keys like this are used to protect email, personal notes, recordings of all phone calls - and now Smith made a vivid demonstration that he doesn’t give a damn about personal privacy. Nick made a mental note to pay it off to Smith one day. The imaginary list of Smith's debt grew faster and faster, but that was fine. Fair enemy - what else does he need to have a good excuse to protect Judy? He tried to gently pat her ear, but she pulled back. The moment of emotions has passed, now it is time to work. Nick sighed and focused on the screen.  
Handle: Roland. No real name. No photo. No description. The first trace - two years ago, the famous hack of Zootopia police database. Wow, so that was him? This guy does not niggle. If it’s a guy…  
So, hack details. Ok, what exactly all these words mean? List of tracked proxies, code injection evidence, logs of internal traffic trace and port scanning… Some weird rocket science. Cybercrime division would figure it out, but Bogo’s instructions were very clear: total secrecy of the case, zero involvement of other departments.  
Judy looked deeper into the file. The second appearance of Roland: ZNN archives - what? Why hack it, everything there is in the public domain anyway? Oh, so he was looking for rejected articles. List of search keywords he used: some technical mumbo-jumbo related to computers, hackers, electronic security systems... If he is such a cool expert, then there shouldn’t be anything he doesn’t already know about those things. Technical details. Just skip. Third hack: traffic surveillance cameras. Well, that system is familiar. Clever hacker would have come in handy in that memorable case. What was Roland looking for exactly? Can’t determine, all tracks destroyed. A masterful work. Why does Smith think that it was Roland in the first place, if there is no evidence left? Fourth hack, fifth, sixth ... Looks like Roland didn’t waste any time, every two or three weeks there was a major new hack. Humph, and now a break for almost a year, that’s strange. Or did Smith simply lose track of him? The last entry in the file: breach of the database of “Lemming Brothers”, six months ago.  
When Judy read this entry, her ears immediately stood upright and blocked the entire screen from Nick. Oh yes, of course! The case she was working on during the last two weeks, the one about a fraud at "Lemming Brothers" - it’s very possible that there was some kind of connection.  
Judy turned to Nick.  
\- Nick, we have a clue here! If an attacker charges into the bank database, he certainly wants to do something with stolen data. Sell it, or blackmail someone, something like that. And I think I might know how to find that out. Let’s go to the bank!  
Judy bounced out of a chair, pulled the stick out of the computer and only stopped at the door, noticing that Nick didn’t move.  
\- What is it, Nick? We have a lead, let’s work!  
\- Look, Carrots. Are you sure that we really should help this Smith? I mean, I understand the Captain's orders, but are you certain this is the right thing to do? Just think about it. What is Smith going to do with this hacker, when we find him? Something tells me that he's not going to simply refer the matter to the court. Something real shady is going on here.  
\- Nick, but you've seen the file yourself! There is a seasoned criminal on the loose, he hacked our own computers, and the mayor's office, and many other places, he is dangerous! We must fight against evil, we cannot just drop this case. Remember what Smith said? Only we can solve it. Allowing a criminal to walk free simply because you did not like Smith - it’s not right, it's ... It's ... It's just not fair!  
\- As if you liked Smith. Look, Carrots, I want to ask you a favour. When we find this Roland, please don’t hurry to give him up to Smith. I want to hear his side of the story first. Everyone has the right to fair justice, and there is one thing I am certain of: Roland will not get it from Smith.  
\- Nick, - Judy looked at him reproachfully and started pattering her hindpaw, as if to emphasize her point. - Nick, you judge Smith by his look. The fact that he is a hyena does not mean...  
\- What has it to do with anything? If he was an elephant, or a mouse, or even a fox, I would say the same. Did you see his eyes? It's the eyes of a cold-blooded murderer!  
\- Listen, Nick. Maybe this Smith is not the most pleasant guy, but he is protecting the law and order. Just as we do. He is hunting criminals, and Roland definitely is a criminal. So we will help to catch him.  
Judy crossed her paws on a chest and turned away. Well done, sayed Nick to himself with frustration, now she cannot be convinced of anything. You can’t talk to Judy like this, she would never give in to pressure. Jackass.  
Nick frowned, then suddenly smiled and went to Judy. Sometimes the excessive tenacity of this bunny infuriated him, but he loved that trait of hers at the same time. The one and only Judy Hopps. His Carrots.  
\- Of course we will find him, Judy. And you will do everything right. I don’t doubt it for a second.  
\- Thank you, Nick. - Judy smiled. - You are a real friend. And I am very glad that you are so concerned about fairness in our work. Don’t worry, we will do everything according to the law, no matter what would Smith demand from us. Now let's go, time is running!  
\- Of course, Carrots. Dibs you're behind the wheel today.

The car left the parking lot and immediately joined the dense flow of traffic on the Evolution avenue. There was no way to completely avoid traffic jams at this time of day, but Judy was skilfully maneuvering between other cars, turning on and off flasher on road intersections, and the city went back block by block. Latest Fur Fighter album rumpled from speakers. So, Judy is now a hard rock fan? Well, it’s no wonder; she is always trying something new, she never stops. The music is nice, by the way. Finnick would certainly like it.  
Nick glanced at Judy. She was turning the wheel, honed in on the road, and looked very focused. Other partners Nick had the opportunity to work with would probably stop the car in the very first traffic jam. The day goes on, the clock is ticking, there is still a month left until a vacation, why not have some smalltalk?  
But Judy is not like this. The car jolted on the next turn, a short flasher gleam followed, and a group of yak bikers quickly rolled to the side of the road. Riding without a helmet, remarked Nick to himself, driving ban for a month and a ticket... However, he did not have time to record any of the license plates, the car moved forward like a whirlwind.  
Judy muffled radio and, while still looking at the road, suddenly asked:  
\- What are you smiling about?  
Nick suddenly realized that he really has a grin from ear to ear for a few minutes already. Bunnies, you can’t hide anything from their peripheral vision.  
\- It’s damn nice to work with you again, Carrots. I think I'll ask Bogo to appoint us as partners again, if you don’t mind.  
Judy giggled. At first softly, then loudly. She even had to roll to the side of the road and stop the car, she couldn’t drive and laugh at the same time.  
\- What is it? - Nick felt perplexed, with a growing taste of soreness. - What’s so funny?  
\- Oh, I'm sorry, Nick. Ha-ha, oh, wait a minute, I can’t stop it. - Judy still could not calm down, and after almost every sentence she sprinkled with laughter. - Sorry, it’s just ... Dad has won! Oh, ha-ha, it’s so… Nick, can you drive for a minute? I just can’t calm down!  
\- What are you talking about? Carrots, please...  
Judy looked at him and saw a grudge on his face, so she tried to catch her breath and answer seriously.  
\- When you asked Bogo to give you another partner, mum and dad argued about how long you will last. Mom’s bet was half a year. And Dad said that you will want to come back before three months time. And just eight days from today will be exactly three months from that moment. Oh, I can’t help it, I'm sorry, Nick. - And again she laughed so hard that tears rolled out of her eyes. Nick opened the glove compartment, pulled out a paper napkin and handed it to Judy. He understood that there is nothing to get miffed about, but he still felt hurt.  
\- And you, Carrots? What was your bet?  
\- Oh, Nick, do you remember me at that moment? I felt mortally offended, and didn’t want to see you or think of you at all. When mom and dad brought this dispute, I nearly shouted at them. So ... I didn’t have a bet. Later on there was a lot of work, we kind of made it up, and i just didn’t think about it any more. But still, it is so funny! Oh, okay, do not frown, I’ll stop it. In fact, I am very glad that you decided to come back. Peace?  
\- Sure, peace. Did you think you’ve tricked me, and now I’ll drive? No, no, today you're behind the wheel. Go forth, officer Hopps, for great adventures are waiting ahead!  
Judy giggled for one last time and started the car. Nick stared out the side window, trying his best to keep his thoughts away from his muzzle.  
Yes, he asked Bogo to assign him another partner. Working with Judy was intoxicatingly marvellous, it felt like a dream, like a fairy-tale. But at some point he realized that he was losing himself. That he is gradually turning into something... Someone new, strange and unfamiliar. And he was frightened by that. He decided to reassure himself that he is still the same sly fox, capable of taking care of himself and making all the decisions. Besides, he desperately wanted to prove the guys at the precinct that he himself is worth something, not only as Judy's partner, but also as a self-sufficient detective. Bogo understood everything perfectly. He assigned a simple-minded, but quite diligent elephant Bruno as Nick’s new partner, and sent them to investigate the disappearance of a few sketches of a famous artist from the Zootopia gallery of modern art. Nick could never understand the meaning of modern art - why would anyone pay several millions for an image of a cat's canned food, when the authentic thing can be purchased in the nearest grocery store for a few dollars? But he did understand tricky robbery schemes and multi-step scams, so after two months of hard work he took the burglar red-handed at the airport, when missing drawings in a box labeled "Diplomatic correspondence" were already on their way to the airplane. It was a good adventure. Nice one to recall.  
And here they are working together again. It’s been less than two hours, and he already started to feel this familiar cozy calm, as if he was sitting in an armchair at home, covered with his favourite blanket, like when his mother read him a bedtime story all those years ago. This feeling of a full and boundless confidence in the partner - that is what bothered Nick most of all, when he tried to look at himself from the side. Starting from his very childhood, Zootopia has taught him not to trust anyone. Always expect a dirty trick, even from closest friends.  
And now yet again Nick could not find the strength to think like that about Judy. Something had to be done about it, but he couldn’t decide what exactly.

“Lemming Brothers” parlor was overcrowded. Several gates, clerks raging from a mouse to a giraffe, and in front of each gate there was a line of waiting visitors. Judy steadily pushed through the crowd to an inconspicuous door marked "employees only". Nick barely keeps up with her. Judy dialed digit code on the electronic lock, the door opened with quiet bleep. The bunny rushed forward. By her look, she knew exactly where to go. Nick followed, while looking around with all his eyes.  
Bank’s insides looked like any modern office. Glass cells of different sizes, standing on each other; complex system of escalators and pneumatic elevators. Here an elephant is sitting in a massive chair in front of a monitor, which is the same size as a window in Bogo’s office. A massive armored keyboard on the floor, able to withstand elephant’s weight. Next, a few rows of rat offices. Computer monitor directly in front of the training wheel - those clerks obviously care about their health. Next, a female fox behind darkened glass, label on the door says "Internal affairs". Hmm, she looks pretty hot. Is there a way to somehow get her number?  
Nick glanced at Judy. She was looking the other way, but for some reason he still felt ashamed. He quickly turned away and tried to throw the fox girl away from his head.  
Next goes a meeting room, two giraffes are discussing something. The ceiling in the room is so tall that those giraffes could easily play basketball in it. The next room is full of large printing machines; a panda in stylish thin glasses takes printed sheets from the tray. Nick imagined what a commotion would rise if someone filled the printer with disappearing ink. Nick tried to hide a sneaky grin, but it was not easy. When he came up with the idea of another prank, the only reliable way to get rid of it was to put it through. How many times did it cause him trouble? Like, a gazillion. Nick, you never learn. But what an idea!  
Judy stopped in front of a door with a golden plate "D. Jones, head of security" and knocked politely. Thin voice from behind the door answered “Please come in”. She opened the door and went inside, Nick followed her.  
The room they entered has immediately reminded Nick about Mr. Mig’s office. Massive oak panels, paintings on the walls, lots of computer monitors, and a tiny chair in front of a window. In the chair he saw a lemming in a business suit. The lemming looked familiar. Nick thought that it might be one of his regular customers from the times when Nick was selling ice cream. On the other hand, it is so hard to distinguish lemmings from one another, they are so alike...  
\- Oh, Miss Hopps! - exclaimed the lemming with feigned joy, while quickly pressing buttons on a tiny keyboard. The screens behind him went out one by one, hiding economic charts and broadcasts of security cameras, leaving only the bank logo: a stylized bull and bear in suits and ties, and a lemming in the middle, who was leading them ahead, straight into the camera. - Am I glad to see you again! Did you find any more clues, or want to ask more questions?  
His voice faltered when he said “questions”, and Nick realized that Judy had spent many hours in this room inquiring into the bank security twists and turns. Nick suddenly felt remorse for the lemming. When Judy was working on a case, she became extremely demanding of everyone around. That usually included herself, but still, her level of determination could be harsh for those previously unfamiliar with it.  
\- That's right, Mr. Jones. If I am not mistaken, the bank’s cybersecurity is also part of your area of responsibility?  
\- Yes, that’s true. Frankly, I'm not an expert. I'm getting high-level reports from the system administration group, so I know about city regulations compliance status and some major incidents, but that’s it. If you need to go into details, I can call the responsible staff here...  
\- Thank you, but this is not necessary. High level reports are exactly what I need. I want to talk to you about an incident six months ago, when the bank's database has been breached by a hacker named Roland.  
Nick noticed how the lemming shivered. He definitely knew something, and it was very unpleasant knowledge. The type of knowledge you would like to forget, or never learn in the first place.  
\- I am listening, Ms. Hops. But please note that my answers will be limited by the non-disclosure agreement of my contract. There are certain questions that I cannot answer freely.  
\- I understand. Nevertheless, let's begin. What do you know about Roland?  
\- Hmm. To tell you the truth, this is not the question which I expected. We don’t know much about Roland. He passed through our firewall like a hot knife through butter. Took away some very valuable financial data - I’m afraid that here I don’t have the right to go into details - and walked away, covering tracks so well that we still can’t figure out how exactly did he do it.  
\- Then how do you know that it was done by Roland?  
\- Because he is the only one who could do it. Roland is a legend, Miss Hops. In the eyes of hackers and computer security experts, he is more of a superhero then a real person. Something like a Superbeast from comic books. We have tried to collect data about him. We sent our experts to various hacking conferences, we analyzed every word in online disputes in the Tor Darknet on this topic. Our cybersecurity department conducted a full-fledged investigation, they even wanted to make a speech about that at the DEFCON, but I forbade that. Roland is much more than just a hacker. Roland is... how do I say it? Roland is a phenomenon. A modern urban legend. Many hackers consider him to be a role model, and much more than that. There is a wide-spread opinion that in the Network there is nothing he cannot do. Mitnick said in his recent interview that Roland has made the hacker scene exciting once again - and the opinion of this opossum should not be discarded as insignificant nonsense. Trust me on this.  
Nick decided that it’s time for him to enter the discussion.  
\- What exactly did Roland take from the bank?  
\- I'm sorry, I do not know your name, mister...  
\- Wilde. Detective Nick Wilde.  
\- Thank you, Mr. Wilde. By the way, do I know you? You look familiar. I think we might meet at some point… But please forgive me, it doesn’t really matter. You see, Mr. Wilde… As I sayed, I can’t go into the details, but the data that is taken away from us… Let's just say if Roland decides to use it for his own benefit, it will make him a billionaire. And we here sincerely hope that this is what he is going to do. Although so far the market has not given us any evidence of that. No one used our forecasts, our algorithms. But if he decides to use that data differently... If it falls into the wrong paws, it can change the world. And, I'm afraid, not for the better.  
\- What do you mean? - Judy asked.  
\- Well, let’s just say he can trigger a financial crisis. Start a new Black Thursday. The Wool Street will be littered with the corpses of our clerks jumped out of windows, but that’s not even the worst part. He may start a new Great Depression with a wave of his fingers, and there is nothing anyone can do about it. The only precaution we could take was to install armored glass in exterior windows of our office. Construction workers have finished this task within ten days after the hack.  
A long silence followed. Both Nick and Judy needed time to digest this information.  
\- But why didn’t you tell me about this before? - Judy exclaimed.  
\- Because this information is strictly classified, Miss Hopps. Only for the heads of departments, and the members of the Executive Board. We don’t want to spread panic. And by the way, this leads me to my next question. I'm sorry, but I have to ask it. How do you know about the hack, and the fact that Roland is behind it?  
Nick saw that Judy was hesitating. She had to reveal her hand in order to obtain more information, but they had explicit orders to keep the investigation as secret as possible. Judy did not know what to do: all the rules dictated one choice, and the duty dictated another. Nick decided to take this choice upon himself.  
\- A hyena named Smith. He is in charge of this operation, he provided the information to us. Do you know him?  
\- Smith. Well, of course. I should have guessed. So now you are working for Smith?  
The lemming looked at them differently now. Without previous fear or reverence. Without any expression at all.  
\- Please tell Mr. Smith that he received from us everything that he had requested. Everything and much more. Tell him that “Lemming Brothers” is a law-abiding organization. That we pay taxes, and we are one of the largest taxpayers in Zootopia. Tell him that we know our rights. And please tell him one more thing: if he decides to ever, ever in his life, try to threaten us again, then we will meet with him in court. And with you, too, Mr. Wilde. Miss Hopps, I'm sorry that you were involved in this affair. But I'm afraid I must ask you to leave.  
Judy turned to Nick and gave him a look that made him want to hide behind the nearest tapestry. He didn’t see such fury in her eyes for a long time, if ever at all. This look brought back memories about the nighthowler case: feral animals locked in cages looked at him exactly like this. Nick instinctively backed away, opened the door and stepped into the corridor in silence.  
Judy went after him. Turning around and looking into her eyes was difficult.  
\- Nick.  
\- Outside. Let's talk about it outside, where no one can eavesdrop on us.  
Nick turned and walked toward the exit. The ability to navigate the maze of corridors he previously visited only once was in his blood, he knew exactly where to turn. He heard Judy’s heavy breathing behind him. He knew that the showdown would not be easy, and tried to prepare for it. What could he tell her to temper her righteous anger? He did a stupid mistake, failed a questioning, and by doing so he destroyed a clear trail. The only thing he could do now was to show his own cards. To give her the clue he would prefer not to use at all. To go deep into trouble once again.  
But it will not be easy. Nick knew how difficult the next step would be. And the hair on his nape bristled when he thought about it. He was entering the game with a really high stakes, and he was not ready for it.

\- What were you even thinking?!  
Judy went back and forth on the sidewalk, unable to stop on the spot. Nick waited silently for her to lose steam, but right now Judy was far from it.  
\- Why? Nick, why did you tell him about Smith? You messed everything up, Jones was ready to cooperate, he still had so much to tell us! They dug up a lot of information about Roland, he just started to reveal it, and here you are. Nick, you're a sly fox, how could you possibly behave so foolishly? Nick! Say something to me!  
Nick shrugged shoulders. The paroxysm of remorse has already passed, now he felt usual self confidence.  
\- Who would possibly know that Smith left such a memory of himself here? I expected an exchange of revelations, I wanted to gain Jones's trust. If you calm down a little and assess the situation once again...  
\- "Calm down a little?" - Judy mimicked him. - I'm not going to listen to this nonsense from you! You have messed this up, and now you don’t even want to admit it! Crook! Liar! Not once in your life can you admit your own mistake!  
Nick felt that he was beginning to boil. There was a grain of truth in Judy’s words, but he couldn’t swallow a tone.  
\- Judy, I was performing the investigation. This is my style of work. If you do not like it, then maybe it would really be better for you to work with another partner. I will not tolerate such an attitude!  
\- Oh, that's it! Now you want to define our style of work, you want to run things! That was the real reason for all the fuss, huh? That’s why you stopped working with me?  
\- No, not because of it! But since you asked - yes, this was also a problem! You think you know everything in the world, although you are still a stranger in this city. You don’t want to listen to anybody!  
\- But you're used to tell everybody what to do. Oh, look, it's Nick Wilde himself, the expert in all the dens and dark alleys in Zootopia! That's what I call a prominent knowledge! No wonder all criminals are considering you as their pal!  
\- Judy, I ...  
\- No. No, you will hear me out, Nickolas Wilde. You always used to be dominant, you manipulated Finnick all along, and you were nearly riding on poor old Bruno. And now you think that the same trick will work with me? Well, by no means! Never!  
Nick felt tears in her voice. In different circumstances he would have immediately stopped and tried to calm her, but now he was too furious to think about the consequences of his words.  
\- Yes, Finnick was my assistant. Because he was capable of admitting that I am better than him at something! And Bruno is a professional, he is able to suppress his ambitions for a common goal! In contrast to someone else!  
A silence followed. Nick saw tears in the eyes of Judy and felt an instant pang of regret, but it was too late. When she spoke, her voice trembled and cracked, but there was no more rage in it - just a deep soreness.  
\- So, that’s how it is, isn’t it? Very well, then. I'll find Roland on my own. Without your help. Go sell your ice cream, fox. And do not come back into my life. Ever!  
Judy turned back and started walking down the street, her shoulders shook with barely repressed sobs. She almost ran into some chipmunk with huge bags in his paws, and he reflexively jumped to the side, spilling the contents of his bags on the pavement. Nick made a timid step after her, whispered:  
\- Carrots... What have I done.  
Judy went away without looking back. Nick felt his hindpaws giving way, he sat down right on the sidewalk, staring dully at the rolling tomatoes and onions from scattered bags. Angry chipmunk muttered something while collecting groceries back into his bags, and Nick just sat still. Treacherous tears stole up to his throat, but his eyes remained dry. Old habit of hiding his real emotions didn’t fail Nick even now, and he was just sitting there without motion and sound, while a gentle breeze ruffled the fur on his ears.

Nick walked down the street, lost in thought, tossing his police badge into the air and catching it again and again. Life showed him another quick turn. He knew that Judy wouldn’t back down from her words, he hurt her too deeply. It was too late now to regret his words, to try and imagine what he should have said in that conversation. Drop it, Nick, it’s no use. The end of another part of your life.  
Damn short part it was. Studies at the Police Academy actually took longer than the real service. Just one major case solved in three months time - and now ... What is the point of staying with the Force any longer?  
Nick admitted to himself: there is a point. Whatever Finnick said, he joined the police not just because of Judy. Somewhere in the depths of his soul, under layers of innate sneakiness and cunning, under a love for sneering practical jokes and for fashionable ties, under the tens and hundreds of details that made up his character - somewhere at the very bottom there always had lived an ineradicable craving for justice. For many years Nick turned a blind eye to it, denied its right to exist. While pulling off another scam, he felt only the thrill of adrenaline and the pleasure of a job well done.  
But it turns out that during all this time there was an invisible struggle inside of him. Because when Nick finally decided to accept Judy’s offer to work in the police (at the time he didn’t fully understand why he agreed at all), he felt that finally he was doing something right. As if for his whole life he was carrying some heavy weight, got used to it and long ceased to notice, and now finally he throwed it off.  
Therefore, there is a point to stay. But... To see Judy every day, to work in neighboring offices, and at the same time to know that there is an impenetrable wall between them - he could not bear that. No. There are other precincts, other departments, where he could start anew, free of his past.  
Yes, that’s what he is going to do. But first he has to finish Roland’s case. Judy might hate him now, but she still should be protected from this spooky Smith. And there is only one way to do this: to give him what he wants.  
Besides - a sudden thought occurred to him - Judy in his situation would have never stepped away from an open case. Why is it so important for him now? They are no longer friends or partners. And still, this reason seemed to him no less important than the first one.  
Nick decided to postpone his self-analysis for later. He knows now what to do: he will take care of Roland. And after that... Well, if he chooses to use the method to acquire information he was considering before, then after that he will have so many problems that they will keep him occupied for a really, really long time.

Zootopia municipal prison looked intimidating. It was built like this to inspire reverence and fear, and architects have coped with their work. "I'm a cop. I have every right to be here"- repeated Nick to himself over and over again, but he still felt how the proximity of this building makes his fur stand on its end. For many years he made every possible effort to not end up here, and now, when he actually needed to come in, he could not push himself to do it. The taxi behind him revved, moving away at high speed - the driver didn’t want to stay here even for another minute. Nick decided that further waiting is useless, he has to harness his willpower and go forward.  
Nick showed his badge and ID to a rhino at a checkpoint, and walked in, towards the director’s office. The administrative wing didn’t look like a prison as he had imagined it: there were no bars on windows, there were flowers in pots along the walls, and he could see ordinary offices behind opened doors. It would be easy to imagine that Nick is in some small-time firm. But there was one thing that immediately stuck out: a uniform. Distinctive uniform of prison guards everywhere around him: similar to his own, but slightly different in details. Different insignia, emblem, slightly darker color... This small distinction forced Nick to feel like a stranger even stronger than if he was in civilian clothes. As if he is unsuccessfully trying to disguise as an insider, but everyone immediately distinguishes fraud. Nick walked down the hallway, and it seemed to him that at any moment someone will shout: "Impostor!" - and guards will rush him and drag him into the nearest empty cell... Nick knew it was absurd, he had every right to be here, but he just couldn’t help it. Old fears suddenly swooped down on him like a bag of sand, bended to the ground, deprived of energy and resolution.  
Calm down, Nick. It's just a stress. You're too upset about Judy, and now the subconscious is playing games with you. Do not give in. You're in charge here. You are in control. Focus. Breathe. Сount to ten. Excellent. Now smile. Everything is fine. Everything is...  
\- Can I help you? You don’t look well.  
Tigress in the uniform with senior warden insignia stopped next to Nick and now was looking at him with a mix of anxiety and suspicion. The sudden outbreak of uncontrollable panic was so strong that Nick almost cried. For a second or two he couldn’t speak, fighting to regain control over his voice.  
\- Sorry, it’s just some battle wounds. Yesterday had a fight in Tundratown, arrested a wolf. He decided to resist, but I quickly trussed him, of course...  
Tigress gave Nick a skeptical look. In comparison with her, he did look like a puppy. She could probably disarm and handcuff a whole gang of wolves with one paw tied behind her back. Her every move was imbued with strength and compellent self-confidence.  
\- Let me accompany you for a minute. Just in case you suddenly feel seedy again, you know. By the way, where were you heading?  
\- Thank you, miss, but I do not think... I'm going to the director, it’s really not necessary...  
\- Oh, it's just round the corner. Come on, I'll show you the way.  
Tigress poked him in the back quite strongly, and Nick obediently went ahead. Suddenly he realized that his hindpaws are trembling. What's going on? Is he losing control? Nothing like this ever happened to him before. So untimely. Focus, Nick. Just go ahead. Nothing terrible has happened yet.

The prison director was a jackal. Pretty old and gray, but rather intimidating nevertheless. The director stood up to greet a visitor, and pointed to the guest chair.  
\- Good morning, Mr ... Wilde, right? The checkpoint attendant notified me about your visit, but I'm not sure that he catched your name correctly. You know, rhinos sometimes have poor hearing. Could you please show me your papers, so I would be sure I don’t mispronounce your name?  
The trick was so obvious that Nick didn’t even smile. At least the director tried to be somewhat discreet. After all, it was his job to guard the prison from all suspicious persons. Nick passed his papers to the director, a tigress behind him sniffed loudly, trying to get a look at the papers over his shoulder. The jackal didn’t pay attention to it, he took the papers, meticulously examined it under a desk lamp light, then turned on the computer and spend a few minutes inputting and comparing the data. Nick waited patiently. The security of this prison was kind of a legend in his former life. Con artists and adventurers of all sorts gingerly told each other stories about numerous escape attempts, which always miserably failed. Nobody ever ran away from here. No matter what cunning plans were used or what daring raids were performed, the prison guards have always won.  
\- Well, Mr. Wilde. Forgive me my suspicions, but that’s a part of my job. Please take your papers, everything is in a perfect order. So, how can I help you?  
\- Thank you, mister…  
\- Norton. Sam Norton. You came here, and didn’t even learn my name in advance?  
\- Unfortunately, there was no time for that. You see, I'm performing an important investigation, and I need to talk to one of your prisoners.  
\- To whom exactly?  
\- Someone Victor Spikes. Convicted of malicious computer hacking. If I am not mistaken, he came here about a year ago.  
Spikes’es muzzle suddenly appeared before Nick’s mind’s eye. Previously Nick knew him under a nickname Wisp. A tall, thin deer, thick glasses, untidy t-shirt always covered with some dirty spots. Antlers covered with a web of wires with some electronic devices attached with tape here and there, humming and flickering annoyingly all the time. Finnick, in his usual cynical manner, called him "Mr. Christmas tree". Wisp usually accepted any contracts he could get, and once he hacked into the Mr. Big’s computer while working for a rival family. He was traced and found, and he was very lucky that the cops got to him first. Mr. Big placed a decent bounty on his head. Spikes knew darn well that on the same day when he gets out of prison, he will end up at the bottom of some inconspicuous Tundratown pond. Nick decided to play this card. If Big finds out what he is doing... Better not to think about it. Solve problems as they arise.  
\- Ah, yes. Found him. - Norton stared at the screen, reading the prisoner’s file. - Victor Eugene Spikes, personal number three hundred ninety six dash zero three. Individual cell, high security wing.  
Norton thoughtfully drummed with his talons on the table.  
\- You know, the high security wing has a strict schedule for visits. And under normal circumstances, I would say: come in two days, between 11 and 12 AM, and don’t forget to make an appointment. But given the circumstances ... I think we will make an exception for the police.  
Norton looked at the tigress, who was standing motionless by the door the whole time.  
\- Martinez, take our guest to the interrogation room number three. I'll have Spikes immediately brought there. You will have thirty minutes, Mr. Wilde. I hope this will be enough. I'm sorry, but according to our regulations, I can’t give you more time.  
Nick stood up, nodded goodbye and headed for the exit. He began to feel strange again. Vision got out of focus, spots on Martinez's fur jumped over each other. Nick fully focused on trying not to stumble when the tigress had opened the door in front of him.  
When they were walking down the hall from the administrative wing of the prison to a high security wing, Nick’s eyes suddenly played a new trick: the blurring disappeared, but everything around him turned black-and-white, like in the old movies. It was even funny in its own way. Nick closed one eye, then the other. Black and white fur on his paw, black and white shade of fluorescent lamps, black and white zebra looking at them sullenly through bars... Although she is literally black and white, a sudden trick of eyesight has nothing to do with it.  
Nick bucked up. Whatever is happening to him, he will deal with it later. Visit a doctor, or just have a really good nap. Right now he is faced with the task, and he must fulfill it by any means.  
When Nick entered the interrogation room, his eyesight suddenly came back to normal. Nick's eyes narrowed. Sudden flow of colors of all kinds affected him like a flick on the nose. Green walls, tigress's blue uniform, red fur on his own nose. Nick touched his nose to make sure that it is still in place, and no stupid tricks happened to it. The nose was where it belonged to, and Nick scratched it with delight.  
Major part of the interrogation room was occupied by a huge empty table, on either side of it there were large chairs. Nick sat down at the nearest chair and prepared to wait. The chair was designed for animals much larger than foxes, and now only his ears raised above the tabletop. Hmm, so that's how Judy feels on Captain’s daily briefings...  
The thought about Judy responded in his head with almost physical pain. What a terrible mishap. Can’t he somehow fix it? What if…  
Nick irritably shaked his head. Not now. He needs to focus on work.  
The door at the opposite side of the room opened with loud clang, and a guard brought Spikes into the room. The deer didn’t look good: he was even thinner than usual, his orange prisoner jumpsuit hung loose, his antlers were scratched, glasses were cracked some time ago and repaired rough-and-ready with wire and tape.  
Spikes sat down on an empty chair and looked at Nick askance. It looked like he didn’t recognize him. Perfect. It gave Nick some manoeuvering space.  
Nick turned to tigress, who was still standing near the door.  
\- Please leave us. We need to talk alone.  
Tigress silently lifted her eyebrow, pointedly looked at the deer. He was three times larger than Nick, and even though thin, still looked dangerous.  
\- Don’t worry. I'm a cop. We know how to deal with criminals.  
\- As you wish. But I am not carrying you to the hospital, Mr. Wilde. This will be only your problem.  
The last sentence she uttered with extreme mockery, and then left the room with loud metal clang. On the other side of the room another clang denoted the second guard leaving. At least this one stayed silent.  
Nick stood up on a chair in an attempt to be a little taller, and tried to mimic Bogo’s intimidating gaze. Spikes didn’t even blink.  
\- Mr. Spikes, I want to offer you a deal.  
\- Stick it under your tail, nark. I don’t work with the cops.  
\- Even if we are talking about the witness protection program? Mr. Big will not be able to find you if you agree to cooperate.  
\- This one will. And once again, specially for retarded like you: I do not work with the cops. Go away and leave me alone.  
Spikes turned away and stared at the wall, showing that the conversation is over. Nick swallowed nervously. It's time to raise the stakes.  
Nick jumped on the table and took a few steps towards Spikes. He was leaving dirty footprints on the table, but right now it was the last thing to bother him.  
\- Don’t you recognize me, Wisp?  
The deer turned back to Nick, looked at him more closely, but the expression on his muzzle didn’t change.  
\- Nick Wilde. Came to you with Finnick three times, we ordered a fake license for selling construction materials. Ring any bell? Come on, pawpsicle ice cream, remember?  
When Nick mentioned ice cream, Spikes nodded.  
\- Now I remember. So what?  
\- Look at me, Wisp. Look closely. Nick Wilde, a trickster and a con artist - has become a cop? You seriously believe that?  
\- Well, you obviously wear a police uniform.  
\- That’s a disguise. A good one, I wouldn’t argue with that. The papers are a real work of art, though. Even the director of this hellhole didn’t suspect anything. Impressive, huh?  
Now Spikes looked at him differently. Tenaciously, keenly.  
\- What are you doing here, Wilde?  
\- I can get you out of here, Wisp. Arrange an escape.  
\- Nobody ever escaped from here. It's impossible.  
\- "Impossible" is a very big word, you should be more careful with it... I can do it. You will hide, cover your own tracks. When Big finds out that you ran away, you'll be long gone.  
\- What’s in it for you? What do you want?  
\- Do you remember how a year and a half ago you took a contract for breaking into Zootopia tax authorities mainframe? I remember some of your friends laughing at you, saying that you can’t jump over your head. But you did the job. You got the money.  
Slight problem here, though, is that it was not you. The actual job was done by another hacker. Someone Roland. You passed him the contract, which means you know him. And now I want to meet the guy.  
\- How do you know? A stupid question, you won’t tell. What do you want from Roland? I bet it’s those fairy tales about the computer conspiracy? You know, I, too, made this mistake once. Wasted a good deal of time and effort looking for Roland, hoping that he could tell me what is the Matrix.  
Nick suddenly shaked and felt strong dizziness. Spikes was still saying something, but Nick didn’t hear it. He instantaneously became deaf and almost blind, the entire field of view was now filled with bright green flashes, which seems to have begun to emerge into some symbols and letters. He stumbled, felt on the tabletop, but didn’t feel any pain, all his senses appeared to black out. Frozen images of the outside world alternated somewhere far in the background of his sight, and Nick roughly realized that Spikes was asking something, shaking him by the shoulders, but he couldn’t feel a thing. He was falling deeper and deeper into unconsciousness, or madness, or death - whatever this poisonous green carousel was, and Nick just wanted it to end. Ringing in the ears became louder with each passing second, Nick couldn’t feel his body anymore, he was a disembodied gaze, a thought, a flow of green letters in the black nothingness, an abstract idea, which didn’t have meaning any longer, just the name - Nick - that was important to hold on to, but he couldn’t remember why, and he was falling, falling, falling down into this void without directions and guidance. The time stopped and curled like a snake biting its own tail, and then suddenly lunged forward again. The green letters scattered in all directions like frightened moths, and finally it was dark.

Nick slowly opened his eyes. Everything was strange. Everything was wrong. A pink haze was covering the world, nothing could be seen through it. Whole body felt wobbly, paws refused to obey. He tried to move, but couldn’t tense any muscles.  
Nick suddenly realized that he can’t feel his tail. Paws, muzzle, ears - all of it felt strange and unusual, but the tail he didn’t feel at all. Frustration gave him strength, Nick stretched out his right forepaw behind his back, and the paw suddenly stumbled on something rigid, metallic, some wire or hose. Nick tried to focus, turned his head sideways and squinted. Through the pink haze (Nick suddenly realized: it is a liquid, he is floating in it, as in the shrimp soup), he saw his shoulder. Its shape was wrong: too round, too massive, but most importantly - there was no fur on it. Only a thin smooth skin, similar to one a sphynx cat have. Nick wrenched his paw in anxiety, brought it closer to his eyes. Whole paw was looking alien. The fur was gone, the proportions were distorted, the fingers - too long, and instead of normal claws there were some semi-transparent plates, fragile even by the look. Several massive black wires were sticking out of the paw and went somewhere out of his line of sight.  
Nick started to panic. “What have they done to me? What kind of place is it? Where am I? What's happening? WHAT HAPPENED TO ME?”  
Nick started to thrash around, instinctively twitch in different directions, and suddenly banged his forehead against something solid. He reached forward his paw, and fingers felt the cold glass. “I'm in a glass case, they threw me here to drown in this pink slush…”  
Nick reflexively held his breath, and only then realized that he was breathing all this time, he didn’t choke, that something supplied him with oxygen. Nick moved paws to his muzzle and touched the oxygen mask. His fingers suddenly stood still. The shape of this mask. Too smooth corners. It couldn’t possibly fit. His nose. What happened to his nose?  
Nick felt paralyzed with fear, but his fingers were moving by themselves. They palpated the mask, confirming what Nick had already realized, but still didn’t want to acknowledge.  
His nose was gone. Ears were gone, too. In its place there were some freaky leathery folds. There was no fur on his head, too, he could feel only bare skin under his fingers. “A nightmare. It's just a nightmare, Nick. You are sleeping and having a bad dream.”  
But some part of him knew that he was not sleeping. All of it was too real. Absurd, weird, but real. Nick slowly moved closer to the glass, and suddenly missed a heartbeat when he saw his reflection.  
A monster. But at the same time, it definitely was him. All facial features distorted, warped, like on the drawing of a crazy artist, but still recognizable. The color of the eyes, the form of eyebrows... Nick blinked, and the reflection blinked in response. That was just too much. Vision blurred, and Nick lost consciousness once again.

\- Wilde! Wilde, wake up!  
Someone was shaking his shoulders. Nock opened his eyes. A recent nightmarish picture appeared before the mind's eye: a glass box with a pink slush, a creepy monster in the reflection... Nick hopped onto his hindpaws, but everything around him was normal again. He was in the interrogation room, a fluorescent lamp faintly hummed on the ceiling, a deer in the orange jumpsuit looked at him, eyes wide opened with terror.  
\- Wilde! You…  
\- How long was I out?  
\- Was out? Suitable word, I guess. Out... Ten minutes, maybe less. Give me a pen and paper.  
Nick didn’t fully come to senses yet, so he meekly handed Spikes his notepad and a pen, not thinking about what he was doing. It was the very same pen, the orange carrot with built-in voice recorder. Usually Nick took care to not let it out of his paws, but right now he wasn’t able to worry about that.  
Spikes started writing some digits in the notepad, and Nick tried to focus on current affairs.  
\- What are you writing?  
\- A phone number. With this number you will be able to contact Roland or someone from his crew.  
Spikes looked up from the notebook, right Nick in the face.  
\- Now I understand why you are looking for him. The escape plan is called off. Tell Roland that you have convinced me. Tell him that I changed my mind, that I once again want to know what the Matrix really is. He’ll do everything else on his own.  
\- What? What have you seen?  
\- Better ask me what I haven’t seen. But you won’t believe it anyway.  
Spikes finished writing, handed the pen and the notepad back to Nick.  
\- Now hurry. They're coming for you.  
\- Who?  
\- When I asked Roland this very question, his answer was: when you see them, you’ll recognize. Wilde, listen to me carefully, your life is at stake here. Call this number immediately, as soon as you leave this room. You can call me paranoid all you want, but now every second counts.  
Nick took a step back, then another. Right in his paws on a notebook page there was a clear victory. Result of great risk, a fair reward. But for some reason it didn’t make Nick happy. This case appeared to be much larger than he had imagined. Much deeper. And somehow also much more personal. Nick had no doubt that his hallucination (if it was a hallucination) was not accidental. Something was going to happen. Something was happening, right now, this very moment.  
Spikes looked at him impatiently.  
\- What are you waiting for, Wilde? Get going! Time is not on your side!  
Nick bucked up. He had no idea why Wisp suddenly started panicking, but decided that it’s better to be safe than sorry. Until he knows exactly what’s going on, there is no time to relax.  
Nick nodded goodbye and walked out the door. There was no one behind the door: Martinez apparently grew tired of waiting and went away. Perfect. He can easily find the way back by himself.  
Nick pulled out his phone and started to dial the number, checking each digit with a notepad. This is stupid, he told himself. I do not know what to tell him, I did not have time to think it over, it can spoil everything... But Wisp’s frightened muzzle still stood in memory. "Your life is at stake". He either was a magnificent actor, or really did know something urgent.  
Nick pushed the call button, pressed the phone to his ear. Long beeps. It seems that Roland was busy with something. Maybe he’s hacking another computer. Maybe he’s watching a movie or is eating pizza. Maybe he’s asleep. Or maybe he’ s been dead for a long time already. After all, it’s been six months since anyone heard of him...  
\- Hello, Nick.  
This was so in-your-face that Nick stopped on the spot, as if he stumbled. The voice was unfamiliar, but the person on the phone had called him by name. Without asking any questions, without any doubt whatsoever.  
\- Listen to me carefully and do not interrupt. They are already in the building. To get out of here alive, you have to unquestioningly obey my instructions.  
\- Who are they? Who are you?  
\- You know who I am. As for who they are - you can see that for yourself. There is a turn of the corridor right in front of you. Peep out. Slowly. He's looking the other way.  
Nick licked his lips. Whatever is going on, there has to be an explanation. But there isn’t one right now. So, act blindly. Just as before, in the old days. In a situation like this you need to trust your instincts.  
And instinct agreed: listen to this voice on the phone. Do as he says.  
Nick slowly peeked out the corner. Spikes didn’t lie when he said, "when you see them, you’ll recognize." Nick recognized instantly.  
Agent Smith was standing at the junction of the corridors, looking sideways. In his paws Nick saw a massive gunpowder pistol.

Nick staggered back, trying to hold his breath. He was scared to half-death. Not by Smith's forthcoming itself: it was quite unsurprising. After all, Smith was involved in this case from the very beginning.  
But gunpowder weapons! It changed everything, brought the game to a whole new level. The police had to deal with those types of weapons on extremely rare occasions. Even Mr. Big’s bears didn’t use these contraptions, relying on physical strength and tranquilizer darts. No law enforcer would ever use them, too: SWAT troops had tasers and water cannons, and even the National Guard was limited to shock grenades and pneumatic rifles with rubber bullets.  
Gunpowder weapons were used only by those who had nothing to lose. Outlawed many years ago, they were still produced in small numbers in illegal workshops, and they could be found on Zootopia black market, but Nick always wondered: why? Why would anyone need those monstrous devices good for nothing but brutal murder? It seems that Smith has found himself an answer. And Nick definitely didn’t want to learn that answer anytime soon.  
\- Turn around, walk through the corridor. Get into the third cell on your left.  
\- All doors are closed!  
\- Not any longer, no. Do as I sayed.  
Nick turned and ran down the corridor. The sensation of extreme vulnerability became nearly physical.  
The third door on the left opened when he approached it. Magnetic lock blinked with green light. Whoever this Roland is, he knows his craft damn well.  
\- The bed on your right. There is a poster with Gazelle just above it. Tear it off.  
Nick did as the voice demanded, and gasped in amazement: there was a hefty hole in the concrete wall behind a poster, the tunnel went somewhere into the darkness.  
\- Dive into the hole. Hindpaws forward, you’ll fall from height.  
Nick looked around - nobody - and jumped into the tunnel. He felt how the floor disappeared, tucked himself up and instinctively pressed his ears to the back of the head.  
The hole went straight down. For a fraction of a second a thought flashed through Nick’s mind: how was the unknown prisoner able to dig such a tunnel, if he had to return to his cell every few hours?  
Then the thought disappeared, as soon as Nick landed on a concrete floor. The impact responded with pain in his hind paws, but fortunately he didn’t break any bones.  
Nick looked around through the cloud of concrete dust. No one, just an empty room. Ventilation grill lying on the floor - he knocked it out while falling down. That’s why the tunnel went straight down: the unknown fugitive only made a small hole in the wall, all the rest was just a regular ventilation system of the prison! Nick grinned. Old architect dispute: how to prevent small animals from using ventilation shafts for illegal access. Every year they raise the same controversy in the newspapers after yet another big heist, and each time they cannot come up with a good solution. If vents become so small that a mouse can’t needle through, then it wouldn’t transmit enough air even for someone as large as a cat... Bless the Providence all cats, especially those who work at the City Hall!  
Nick realizes that he is holding the phone in his paw far away from his head, and no matter what Roland is saying right now, he can’t hear it. Nick quickly pressed the phone to his ear.  
\- Finally you're ready to listed. Open the nearest door and go directly ahead. Walk five empty rooms through, and you will come to the staff parking. It's crowded. Try to blend in.  
Nick went ahead, hastily brushing the dust from his uniform. The lighting here was dim, but even so he could clearly see that the jump through ventilation has left its marks. Nick stopped, trying to clean the dust from his sleeve, then decided that the speed at the moment is more important than the look. If Smith is going after him, then it’s better not to waste time.  
Nick turned the doorknob, and the headlight beams of numerous cars nearly blinded him.  
\- Jump to the right, now!  
Nick obeyed instinctively. He jumped with all his remaining strength, and saw how a pickup truck with the label "road service" on the side crashed on a full speed into a place where he was just standing. Nick managed to notice a hyena in a black suit behind the wheel. It was not Smith, but he was so similar that they could be mistaken for brothers. The same outfit, shades, emotionless muzzle...  
Nick ran to the crashed truck. Whatever madness has happened to the world around, he was still a cop. He just saw a car accident, the driver needed help...  
The cab was empty. Nick blinked and shook his head to make sure it's not a daydream. The truck was completely write-off, no hope of repair, and its cab was empty. Neither hyena in a black suit, nor anyone else was there.  
Somewhere behind him a gunshot banged. Nick immediately recognized the sound of a gunpowder weapon. He was taught in the Police Academy to distinguish it from any other loud noise. The remains of a truck side mirror in front of his muzzle cascaded down to the floor.  
Nick reflexively fell to the floor and rolled to the side, trying to see what’s going on. Animals were fleeing in different directions, the parking was flooded with light. A lonely figure walked towards Nick from far away, slowly, as though leisurely playing hide-and-seek. Headlight beams from different directions emphasized the shape of his sunglasses, and the tail throwed a long shadow on several walls at once.  
\- I underestimated you, mister Wilde! I admit, it's my fault!  
The next shot rumbled, and the door of a truck right over Nick’s head suddenly bent inward, as if it was hit by a huge invisible hammer.  
\- And I rarely make mistakes, trust me! But the good news is, you did find Roland. Or, putting this even better way: you and Roland have found each other!  
Once again a gunshot thundered, but Nick was already far away. He crept along the row of vehicles, hoping to remain unnoticed, and the shot shattered a piece of wall above his head, showering him up and down with concrete dust. Again... This day will never end.  
\- It’s a shame, really, that I have to kill you now. But you've seen too much, so I don’t have a choice.  
Nick turned for a moment and suddenly saw a swift shadow coming towards Smith from behind.  
\- Freeze! Drop your weapon on the floor!  
Nick recognized Ramirez - the same tigress who was escorting him around the prison earlier. She was carrying a taser, and it was pointed exactly at Smith’s temple.  
Smith turned in her direction. Tilted his head thoughtfully.  
\- Dumb children. You still have so much to learn...  
What happened next was difficult to discern. Smith jumped up to the ceiling, as if gravity had no power over him anymore. Ramirez pulled the trigger, and electric wires flew away, driven by a compressed air. They collided with the opposite wall and created a spectacular, but useless flash of purple sparks: she missed. The next moment Smith was already behind her. He waved his paw, and his blow was so strong that the tigress flew away head over heels.  
She hit the floor and immediately leaped to hindpaws. After a split second she was standing in a perfect combat stance, claws clearly visible to Nick even from far off.  
\- Come here, pachuco. Show me what you’ve got!  
Smith headed in her direction. He walked slowly, effortlessly, as if he forgot all about the gun and about Nick, who was still trying to sneak towards exit.  
He nodded to himself: this is good. Let Ramires distract Smith, hopefully for a long time. It will give Nick the opportunity to get out.  
Nick looked at the exit and suddenly stopped still. Just a moment ago there was no one there; but now he could clearly see three motionless silhouettes. They were very similar to one another: identical suits and ties, identical sunglasses, identical guns in their paws. Agents. Smith did not come here alone. That unknown hyena behind the wheel of a truck - it was not a hallucination.  
Nick suddenly realized that he had forgotten about the phone yet again. From the moment of a first gunshot he was driven by instincts, by the adrenaline rush, but not by his brains. Time to fix that.  
\- Roland! What do I do now?  
\- To your right. Run past a big yellow van, across the parking lot to the opposite wall.  
\- They’ll see me.  
\- Trust me. Close your eyes and run!  
Nick dropped on all four legs and ran. The phone was pressed between ear and shoulder, it was extremely uncomfortable, but at the moment speed was more important than everything else.  
Nick closed his eyes as the voice demanded, hoping that there is a good reason for that. Running full-speed with closed eyes through a cramped parking lot was probably just as dangerous as confronting Smith and his monstrous gun, but Nick threw this thought away. Go on instincts. Like in the old times.  
Suddenly Nick heard a loud rattling from somewhere on the side. Closed eyes flashed red: some very bright light source just illuminated the parking lot. Hopefully it blinded agents at the entrance...  
\- Stop. Now go to the right. You can open your eyes.  
Nick obediently opened his eyes. The field of view was full of red splashes: the vision was hurt even through closed eyelids.  
\- What did you just do?  
\- Security camera over the entrance to the parking lot. It has a speedlight. It just gave out three hundred light pulses in two seconds. Even agents are not immune to something like that.  
Now go to your left. Do you see the door labeled "emergency shelter"? Crack it open.  
\- With what? I don't have a lockpick!  
\- Kick it out. Break it down. Whatever, the exit is that way!

Nick silently promised Roland the nastiest of his signature pranks the next time he gets the chance. He was expecting actionable directions, not crap like this. Nick’s hands were empty, a crowd of crazy agents with illegal weapons were chasing him, and in general the day was far from the best… Nick pulled air through his clenched teeth. Tried to focus. Looked around. There was a fire rack hanging on the wall nearby. Fire extinguisher, a shovel, a crowbar... An axe. An axe!  
Nick grabbed the axe from the rack, trying to move as fast as possible. Somewhere behind him the agents were regaining consciousness and ability to see, he knew that he had only a few seconds at his disposal. Nick hastily shoved the phone into his pocket and swung the axe, struck once, twice, and finally the door came off the hinges and fell on the floor. Nick rushed forward into the darkness, pulling the phone back out and putting it to his ear.  
\- What's next?  
\- There's a table right in front of you. There’s an old emergency phone standing on it. It's about to start ringing. Pick it up.  
\- What? What about the agents, they will be here any moment now?  
\- Just pick up the phone, Nick. Trust me on this. I'll tell you what to do next. Just do it!  
Nick's eyes already adjusted to night vision. There are certain perks in being a fox... Now he could see the whole room: shelves full of cans and water bottles, closed wooden boxes, and a large table standing at the other end of the room. Yeah, right in front of you. Like hell it is.  
An ancient-looking phone standing on the table suddenly started ringing. Whatever it was, it couldn't have been that urgent. Nick looked around in panic. There was no way out. It was a dead end. The air vents are too small, and there's no other doors or windows. Of course, it's an emergency shelter, it shouldn’t have windows by definition.  
Nick turned around. There was an agent standing in the doorway. In night vision he seemed like a solid black silhouette surrounded by a bright white glow. The car headlights in the parking lot illuminated him from behind, creating a theatrical soffit effect. The agent started to talk, and Nick immediately recognized him by his voice. Smith.  
\- It's a shame, isn't it, Mr. Wilde? To die without even knowing what for. For no good reason. Well, let me reassure you. There is a reason, and it’s pretty good. I'll finally catch Roland. The Matrix will be devoid of the flaws of its former... incarnations.  
Nick didn't see it, but he felt a smile on Smith's lips. He could hear it in his voice.  
\- Even a pity that it was so easy. It's only been two years of hunting. Morpheus was a much stronger opponent.  
A black shadow pulled out his paw with a gun. Nick knew he was now in the full view, at a point blank range. Impossible to miss. He reflexively clenched in terror and closed his eyes.  
A second passed. Nick was still alive. There was no rumble of gunfire, no pain, no sudden weakness promised a police training manual for gunshot wounds. Nick realized that something went wrong, opened his eyes and looked at Smith.  
The agent was lying on the floor across the aisle, his fancy expensive suit covered with tranquilizer darts. Nick's eyesight returned back to normal, and he could see the colours again. The dart feathers were bright orange, and it looked like a bizarre flower bed that somebody had thought to decorate as a sprawling animal figure.  
The parking lot was barricaded by a formation of assault shields. The prison guards were indistinguishable from one another in their bulky helmets of riot armor. A dozen tranquilizer guns were looking directly at Nick right now. A siren was howling somewhere in the distance.  
One of the guards came forward, and even under the armour Nick recognized jackal Sam Norton, the prison director.  
\- No one comes into my prison with a gun. No one shoots at my prison without my permission. No one. Wilde, get out of there. Slowly. Keep your paws where I can see them. And shut the damn phone, it's getting on my nerves.  
Slowly, gently, trying not to make any sudden moves, Nick came closer to the table. There was a sharp smell of gunpowder and tranquilizer in the air, nausea started rolling up to his throat, and the incredible weight of this crazy day suddenly crushed him down like a sea wave. Nick leaned against the wall, trying not to fall on the floor. He wasn't able to adequately perceive anything anymore. A real miracle had just saved his life, but all Nick could feel about it was an incredible fatigue. He just wanted to close his eyes, so this day could finally be over, and with it - all the surreal madness it had brought.  
The phone kept ringing. Nick held out his paw and picked up the handset. The world suddenly froze, then blinked with a green flash. Nick distinguished the familiar pattern of numbers and letters in front of his eyes - is it happening again? Oh, no... But that strange effect took only a split second this time, and when it was over, Nick suddenly realized that he was not in the prison anymore. He was standing in a huge empty room, the stars were shining through open windows, and a phone handset he was still holding in his paws was different. Instead of the nauseating smell of recent firefight, the air smelled of dust and fresh foliage.  
A tall white rabbit in a long black coat and thin gloves walked up to Nick and pressed the lever of an old payphone hanging on a wall right in front of him. Nick saw that the handset he was holding in his paws is connected to the payphone by a flexible wire, and now it started producing short beeps.  
The rabbit turned to Nick, looked him in the eye.  
\- My name is Roland. Hello, Nick.

The consciousness was returning back slowly, piece by piece. Smell was the first. Ozone from lots of electronic equipment. Burned insulation. Sweat. Blood. Some kind of bitter medicinal smell that always permeates any hospital.  
The vision turned on second. Bright light, gradually fading into meaningful pictures. A steel ceiling dotted with rivets. Medical drop bottle with attached digital screen and a small keyboard. Lots of wires. Nick turned his head. Grey wall, table with unfamiliar surgical instruments. Steel chair attached to the floor.  
Finally the hearing came back. The distant noise of unknown machinery, the beeping of medical apparatus, the rustling of air in the ventilation. Vague voices behind the door.  
\- When will he regain consciousness?  
\- If my calculations are correct, he should be already awake by now. But, captain, I can't give you a precise estimation. The stress was too strong. First unplugging from the Matrix is always very painful, but for him it’s doubly so. He has to adapt to a new body.  
\- I know. But we can't wait forever. I have to ask him questions and get answers for them.  
The door squeaked. Nick turned his head to the sound and saw two beings entering the room.  
Images of the recent past immediately resurfaced in Nick’s memory. A pink haze, a glass box filled with wires. His own reflection: a monster that looked both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. Prison parking lot, Agent Smith aiming a gun at him. Roland. His crew: two bulls, a panther, a wolf with a scar on his face. Massive chair, looking like a dentist's. "It's about to hurt. Stick it." Black maze of pipes, pink body capsules all around. Dazzling light from somewhere up high. A huge metal claw grabs him and drags him somewhere. And there is Roland once again, but now he's different. Flat wide muzzle, small pointless ears, almost no fur except on the very top of his head. "Breathe, Nick. Just breathe."  
Nick looked at those who came in. One of them was Roland, the one from the last memory. He didn't look like any animal that Nick knew. Two pairs of paws, like everyone else, but no tail and almost no fur. Only the eyes - the eyes were the same. And the voice.  
\- Hello, Nick. Welcome to Mjolnir. This is my ship.  
\- What’s... happening? What's going on with me? Why am I… Like this?  
Roland looked at it with a sudden sorrow.  
\- You're human, Nick. Just like the rest of us. Get up, I have something to show you.

Walking around without a tail was weird and awkward. Nick held on to the walls all the time because he was constantly losing his balance. The front paws, Roland called them "hands", were already working pretty well, but the back paws, the "legs", couldn't get used to the different center of gravity and the lack of a tail for keeping balance. Nick felt like walking on a boat during a storm.  
Everyone Nick saw here were humans. No foxes, no otters, no bears, just humans. It was strange and unfamiliar. Every crowd in Zootopia was motley, but here everyone looked like rough photocopies of one another. Even their clothes were almost the same: grey, worn-out, purely utilitarian. Whoever these people are, they don’t care about appearance very much.  
\- Look.  
Roland came up to the computer desk with multiple screens. They were all showing familiar green symbols, and Nick suddenly felt sick. This green blizzard has summoned too recent and too unpleasant memories.  
\- What you see here is the Matrix. The code of the computer program which was the only reality you knew. Look at this.  
Roland pressed a few buttons, and the image on the screens changed. Now there was Zootopia: skyscrapers, roads full of cars, passers-by in the streets, storefront, street advertisements. The screens showed different places in the city. Roland pressed some buttons and moved the camera closer, then farther, then moved it to the side. It was possible to see anywhere, to find any place in the city, if you know where to look.  
\- This is where you've lived your whole life, Nick. Real and unreal at the same time. Truth and fake, like two sides of the same coin.  
Roland pressed a few more buttons, and the picture changed once again.  
\- And this is my world. True reality. This is what the world really looks like.  
Nick looked at the screen, unable to get away. A thunderstorm. Lightning strikes through the black sky, and in their rapid light he could see some blobby ruins, huge bare rocks, massive metal structures far on the horizon. A few quick silhouettes flew through the screen. Nick couldn't get a good look at them, but they looked like tangled balls of thick threads.  
\- What was that?  
\- The machines. Our enemy. Those who made our world what it is now. Sit down, Nick. We have a long talk ahead of us.

\- ...so after the sixth Matrix reload we thought that we had won. A peace treaty was signed with the machines. The Architect promised he'd never break it first. Bastard, if only we'd known then what he was up to... The new Matrix was different. Radically different from the old one. Plugged in people were confined into virtual bodies of animals, from mouse to elephant. The simulation we knew before has changed beyond recognition. But worst of all was that the underlying code of the Matrix itself has changed. Our old programs weren't working anymore. We can't unplug people anymore, they're locked in there like beasts in a cage. Sorry, Nick, that was an inappropriate figure of speech. It's been two years, but I still can't get used to it.  
\- How could it be just two years? I've lived in Zootopia all my life, it's always been like this!  
\- False memories. The Architect created a world which already had a past, even more fake than its present. Everything you remember about your life further than two years ago never really happened. The deception inside of the deception. Typical machine strategy.  
\- But... how... But why?  
\- We don't know why. I think that's their way of trying to defeat us without a proper war. The Matrix has become what it is now to weaken us. To deny us the opportunity to fight for the future of humankind. When we tried to crack the new code, to regain our old capabilities, the machines saw it as a violation of the peace treaty. Since then, the war has been going on again.  
Roland took a breath.  
\- We lost too much in the Sixth Reload War. All we got in return was just a short reprieve, and the knowledge that the Matrix exists in cycles. If Morpheus was still alive, he'd say it was our destiny. He always believed in destiny. I think it was this belief that ruined him.  
\- Who’s Morpheus? Smith mentioned him.  
\- A friend. - Roland closed his eyes. - Morpheus was my friend and a good man. The best hacker I ever knew. An uncompromising soldier of the Resistance. A philosopher and an idealist. People like him should have survived this war. Not people like me.  
There was a long silence. Nick reminisced about his life. It was all a deception. It was all a lie. Everything he ever did was for nothing, was nothing. The city he considered to be his home was just a set of files, a stream of green numbers dissolved in a computer network.  
Friends and enemies flew by in front of his mind, staying behind, dissolving in oblivion. Finnick. Weaselton. Mr. Big. Captain Bogo. Judy.  
Judy's mental image didn't want to disappear. It stayed in front of his eyes like an obsession, and Nick threw his head up.  
\- Not everything's a lie. There was something real in there. There is something real! Our emotions. Our feelings. It's a reference point, an absolute value. Even if everything else is a lie, they're still real!  
\- You sound like Morpheus now, Nick. I understand. You have many questions, and not all of them I can answer. I'll take you to someone who can.  
\- Who?  
\- The Oracle. She’s a program, but she’s on our side. She’s always been. Although she’s a part of the Architect's big plan, she’s become more than just a function. She'll understand if you start this conversation with her about feelings. I wouldn't. Sorry. I'm a materialist, Nick. The only thing I'm interested in right now is how you got out of the Matrix. How we can learn to do it again. I still don't understand it.  
\- So it wasn’t you who pulled me out of the Matrix?  
\- You pulled yourself out, Nick. All I did was slightly help at the very last step. The first time you called me, I had no idea who you were. Of course, I traced the call, it was only a matter of seconds to get your name and police profile, but it didn't tell me anything of value.  
Then I saw agents coming after you. Us humans have a saying: My enemy's enemy is my friend. I helped you to get away. You know the rest.  
A long pause followed. Roland was staring at Nick.  
\- Nick, if there's some secret, some trick you did, then tell me, please! This is important to all of us, the machines are our common enemy!  
Nick shook his head sadly.  
\- I'm sorry, Roland. But I really don't know. There's no secret. It was just an accident. A system glitch. I'm not the one you want. I'm not ready for this. I'm not ready to devote my life to this war of yours which I first heard of just minutes ago. Sometimes the truth is simply too painful. If only I could forget everything. To go back to my old life. But now, of course, that's impossible.  
Roland gave Nick a long, worried look. There were some heavy thoughts in his head that he was in no hurry to share. Thoughts that he obviously didn't like.  
\- Yeah, it's all hard to accept at once. Take your time. I'm sure the Oracle will help you figure all this out. We'll visit her in two hours. Get some rest.  
Roland got up and left the room, leaving Nick alone with the green letters on the computer monitor. Nick was staring thoughtfully at the screen. The letters kept crawling and crawling, overtaking each other, and now they seemed to Nick like dust particles flying in the invisible wind.

Nick looked out the car window. He was his old self again, a red fox with a long nose and a chic, fluffy tail. In his head Nick knew it was all fake, an illusion, but he was still smiling with pleasure. It was his body. His world.  
Outside the window, streets of Zootopia flew past them one by one. Crowds of animals were walking in all directions, greeting each other, dodging each other, not suspecting that there really was no street and even no animals - just rows of identical pink glass capsules with indistinguishable human bodies inside.  
\- If everyone believes in the same lies, doesn't that make the lie true? - he whispered under his nose.  
Roland, who was sitting next to him, heard that.  
\- No, it doesn't. Lies are lies, the truth is the truth. The Matrix can be confusing, sure, but I stick to simple rules. A friend is a friend, an enemy is an enemy. Machines and programs like the Architect or agents are the enemy. Unplugged people are allies. The people in the Matrix are the victims, they need help. And that’s it. Let the people with lots of free time to do philosophy.  
Nick looked at Roland. He saw a familiar white rabbit, a long coat buttoned up, oval dark glasses hiding half a muzzle. Roland was frowning. He obviously didn't like philosophical conversations like this one. Nick had already understood that Roland didn't like anything that couldn't be measured, catalogued or controlled. The life full of war and constant struggle has freed him from many illusions, but at the same time it took away something important. Nick could not find the right words to describe this feeling, but it seemed to him that Roland in his black and white view of the world is missing something crucial. Nick wasn't in a right position to give Roland any advice, though. There's still a lot he didn't understand himself.  
The car stopped. They were in Tundratown, near the very wall that separates the city districts. Somewhere in the distance a train ran through a railroad bridge.  
Roland opened the door and got out of the car.  
\- Come on, Nick. The Oracle is expecting us.  
\- Did you warn her about our visit?  
\- No. But knowing these things is her function.  
Nick got out of the car. In front of him he saw a shabby apartment building, old and long unattended. Stepping gently between the garbage and mud scattered in the snow, Nick suddenly realized that he is admiring the Architect's skill. Creating such a perfect illusion of old age and dilapidation must have been a lot harder task than all those brand new skyscrapers of the city center. According to Roland, the Architect is the ultimate enemy... But Nick couldn't help but feel respect for a job done flawlessly, whoever it belongs to.  
They entered the hallway. The walls were covered with old graffiti, and Nick wondered: who was the author? Some regular citizen of Zootopia, or its legendary creator? And what is the difference, really, if both sides end up building up the same work, this incredibly colorful city, even if they approach the task from different angles?  
Roland wasn't looking around. He didn't even take off his dark glasses, though the lights in the hallway were dim, and some even broken. When he pressed the elevator button, he stared at the wall indifferently as the worn-out mechanisms made loud noise somewhere at the top of the building. A soldier through and through. Like a cog in the machine.  
Nick shuddered, suddenly frightened by his last thought. It's strange how close the opposites converge in this invisible war. Maybe he should ask the Oracle about it.

The Oracle was an old brown bear in an old-fashioned dark dress. When she opened the door, her paws were covered in flour, and she went straight back to the kitchen. She was talking on the move, no longer looking at the guests.  
\- Roland, Nick, how nice of you to stop by. The cookies are almost ready, only a few minutes left. Wasn't expecting you so early. You're always in a hurry, Roland, all in a hurry, all on the run...  
\- Hello, Oracle. You know why we're here.  
\- Of course I do. And what about you, Roland? Do you really know that?  
The bear looked out of the kitchen door, glanced first at Roland, then at Nick.  
\- Well, this youngster here knows for sure. There's something about him... Something special.  
Nick felt embarrassed. He hasn't been called a youngster in a long time, and he didn't like that patronizing tone at all. The Oracle diligently showed goodwill, but Nick felt growing irritation inside.  
\- Come on in, Nick. Have a seat. Roland, please wait in the other room, there are some good books on the shelf. Go through them, it'll do you good.  
The old bear started giggling. Roland made an embarrassed face and headed for the side room. Nick looked there: a sofa, a bookshelf, an old TV against the wall. The whole apartment looked old-fashioned, but very cozy. It was obvious that it was furnished with great love and care.  
Nick went into the kitchen. He saw what he had expected: a massive stove, an old-timer fridge with nickel-plated side handle, a wooden table covered with a clean tablecloth with a pretty flower pattern. Nick sat down at the table. The stool was just the right size for a fox, though it must have been too small for a bear. Looks like she was really waiting for them to come.  
\- I wonder who furnished this apartment. Was that you or the Architect himself?  
\- Such a good question, Nick! You know, you're the first one to ever ask it. In the six hundred years that the Matrix has existed.  
The Oracle leaned over to the oven, opened it up, gently smelled the hot air, then closed it back up and sat in an opposite chair.  
\- The cookies need a few more minutes to bake properly. We'll have just enough time to talk. As for your question... I guess it's no surprise. None of the humans have even heard of the Architect until recently. If only you knew how misanthropic he is. If he comes out of his maze once a year, that's already a lot... This apartment is his work, yes. One of his very first.  
\- It's very nice. Very cozy.  
\- Thank you. He'd love to hear it. I see you want to ask me something. Please go ahead. I'll try to answer as best as I can.  
\- Roland says that the Matrix is a prison. Built by machines to conquer mankind, to control it... It all sounds logical, and his evidence seems pretty convincing.  
But it's still hard for me to believe it. This world... When you live in it, it's hard to see, but when you look at it from the outside, you can immediately conceive how much love, how much passion was invested into its creation. That's not how prisons are built. I don't know what the Architect's purpose really was, but it can't just be a weapon in some war. Why did he really create the Matrix?  
\- Bingo, Nick. Spot-on.  
The bear got up from the chair, turned to the stove again, put on thick mittens and opened the oven. Nick immediately felt the heat, and with it - the intoxicatingly sweet smell of fresh ginger cookies.  
The bear took the baking tray out of the oven, put it to cool down on top of the turned off stove, closed the oven and sat down again, looking at Nick with a clingy, attentive look.  
\- Amazing. This world is only two years old, and it's already bearing such fruit. What is it: the changes the Architect made this time? Or is it you, Nick?  
The bear went silent for a while, then spoke again, gently grabbing cookies from the tray.  
\- Every Matrix was different from the previous one. Roland and his generation are the children of the sixth Matrix, and believe me, it was a much less pleasant place than this one. Especially at the very end. So they would never ask such a question.  
The Oracle blew on a cookie, then took a bite and thoughtfully chewed it.  
\- Now it’s just the right temperature. Please help yourself, Nick. I hope you like cookies.  
Sorry, but I can't tell you what was the Architect's ultimate goal. I'm bound by not so many unbreakable laws, but this is one of them.  
But you did ask a question, and the question deserves an answer.  
The bear kept quiet for a moment, looking out of the window.  
\- The Architect will find you himself, Nick. I'll try to arrange that, though it'll cost me a lot. But my function is to always provide an answer to a question.  
A function, Nick. That's what makes us different from the humans. Sometimes I envy your ability to choose. Sometimes I feel sorry for you.  
The bear got up and headed for the hall. Nick called her out.  
\- One last question, if I may?  
She turned around. Something in her face has changed. She wasn't a hospitable old lady anymore, a friendly bear who liked cooking. She looked different. Her eyes were different. Nick could see in them now that he is standing in front of the Oracle, the deity of the Matrix, an ancient powerful and overwhelmingly intelligent machine, who is bearing on her shoulders all the knowledge and all the sadness of dozens of generations of people.  
\- Ask away, Nick. But be careful. There are things that are better left unspoken, and I always try to answer the question if I can. Always.  
Nick took a nervous swallow.  
\- My question is this: what we do in the Matrix... The good, the evil, the sacrifices or the betrayals that are done here in this fake world... Are they fake, too? They don't matter, do they?  
The Oracle stared at him for a long time without giving an answer. Nick bowed his head under her gaze, but didn't take his eyes off.  
\- That question, Nick, you will have to answer yourself.

Roland's phone rang when they came out of the hallway. Roland pressed the phone to his ear, listened for a second and quickly turned to Nick.  
\- Run to the vehicle!  
Without waiting for an answer, Roland rushed forward with all his paws. Clumsy, the rabbit body was still uncustomary to him, and Nick had easily come to the vehicle first.  
The bull and the panther, who were waiting near the car, saw them running and immediately pulled weapons.  
Gunpowder pistols. They got gunpowder pistols, too. Nick suddenly realized that he forgot to ask the Oracle why the agents and resistance fighters were so alike. The two sides of the same coin...  
\- Agents! - Roland exclaimed. - Already on their way here!  
Panther turned around, gun in her paw looking for a target. Rare passers-by panicked and started running awas when they saw the gun. The bull opened the door of the vehicle, jumped behind the wheel and started the engine. Nick hurriedly sat down in the back seat, Roland sat right next to him. The panther was last, she took her seat next to the driver, and the car pulled away.  
The panther suddenly turned around, and her gun looked right between Nick's eyes.  
\- Traitor! You turned us in to the agents!  
\- What? Are you crazy? Roland, say something! Roland!  
The rabbit was looking into the phone, hastily pressing buttons on the screen. In the reflection in the side window Nick saw familiar green letters on a black background. Hacking the Matrix from the inside? How is that even possible, it’s like seeing a reflection inside of another reflection, an endless fractal always repeating itself... Nick would have admired the idea, but the gun at his forehead wouldn't let him think about anything else.  
\- Roland!  
\- Shh, Steyr. Put the gun away. Nick is not for blame. We are, though, because we are morons. He’s got a bug on him.  
Nick felt an overwhelming urge to put his claws into his fur and start itching. He hated insects, and it took a great effort to sit still. Any abrupt movement now could have cost him his life.  
\- Not a physical bug, Nick. A tracking subroutine. Smith probably implanted it into your avatar the first time he met you, so he could always know where you are. Bugs used to detach from the host as soon as they disconnected from the Matrix. Apparently they don’t any longer. The rules have changed once more. Damn it.  
\- Can you remove that thing away from me? Turn it off?  
\- No. We used to, but I already told you, our old programs stopped working. Agents are coming at us like moths on fire. We can’t hide anymore.  
The panther looked to the side and suddenly shouted:  
\- Get down!  
Nick and Roland synchronously fell onto the seat, and a rumble of close gunshot followed almost at the same moment. Nick raised his head a little. A flat round hole appeared in the side window of the car, surrounded by a web of cracks, and behind it he saw a black vehicle riding side by side with them. An agent with a gun in his paws came out the window. The gun was pointed right at Nick.  
Nick fell back to the seat. A second shot nearly hit, Nick felt a sharp gust of hot wind with the fur on his head.  
The bull at the wheel wailed with rage and turned the wheel away. The vehicle swerved and rattled as they collided with the agents' car, pushing it away from the road. Suddenly they heard a deafening rumble, and the windows went dark. They drove into a tunnel leading to the Sahara Square, and the agents' car crashed into the tunnel pier. Nick imagined for a moment what it must look like now. A crumpled paper napkin, probably also on fire. Unfortunately, it won't stop the agents, but at least it will delay them a bit.  
Nick and Roland looked around. Traffic lights flashed around the car, the bull was spinning the steering wheel fiercely, maneuvering between other vehicles. Clackson howling almost drowned out the ringing in Nick’s ears.  
Nick looked at Roland and met his gaze. He knew what he had to do. It was almost guaranteed suicide, but there was no other way.  
\- Drop me off.  
\- Nick, you're crazy.  
\- They're following me. Not you. You have a chance to survive on your own. Together we are doomed for sure.  
Roland took a quick look at the bull at the front seat. Then he glanced back at Nick. In his line of duty, the ability to make quick decisions was a necessity.  
\- Thompson, stop the car as soon as you get a chance. We'll have to leave Nick behind.  
The panther turned around, and in her eyes Nick saw a cold look of a seasoned soldier who is long used to losing people in battle.  
\- Sorry for doubting you, Nick. Give them hell.  
She held out the gun to Nick, but he shook his head. It won’t help. He cannot outplay agents on their own field. Besides, he didn't even know how to aim with that monstrosity of a weapon.  
\- Nick, I'll try to get you out as soon as I unplug from the Matrix myself. Keep running, and keep an eye on your phone. When it rings, do whatever I say.  
All four of them knew this wasn't going to happen. The agents wouldn't give him that much time. Nick clenched his teeth. The investigation about a hacker named Roland was swiftly approaching its grand finale.  
The car rode out of the tunnel, and the sound of a low-flying helicopter immediately overflowed the air. Nick heard a thunderous voice, reinforced by a megaphone:  
\- THIS IS THE POLICE! PULL OVER IMMEDIATELY!  
Nick wondered for a second if he could recognize the voice, then gave up on it. It didn’t matter anyway.  
Thompson pulled an audacious maneuver, the car crossed a busy intersection and went to perpendicular street. Pedestrians scattered around - all except one.  
The agent was standing right at the next intersection, aiming a gun at their vehicle.  
The vehicle swung sideways, the gunshot punched a hole in the windshield. They were still alive, but mostly because of pure luck. And it was running out pretty fast: the sound of approaching helicopter was becoming louder again.  
The car was driving directly at the lonely silhouette of an agent. He jumped - unbelievably high, to the height of a third floor at least - and the car drove under. Another shot went off from high up, and a new hole appeared in the ceiling of the vehicle. A symmetrical hole in the floor was right next to Nick's paw.  
The sound of sirens approached from different sides. It’s the police. They're blocking off the area, soon there's not gonna be a single way out.  
Nick slammed Thompson on the shoulder.  
\- Turn right on the next crossing. There's a three-story parking lot, and a section of the orbital highway right next to it. If you are crazy enough, you can jump from the top floor to the highway. That’s your escape.  
Thompson turned the wheel without giving it a second thought. The car went through the parking lot entrance and drove onto the ramp going upstairs. They were still lucky: there were no other vehicles in front of them. Thompson kept pushing the pedal, they were hitting walls on every corner, but speed was more important than safety of the car. The helicopter sound was almost directly above them, but they were still hidden by the roof of the parking lot.  
When they entered the third floor, Thompson halted the car.  
\- There will be no other chanse to stop. Good luck, Nick.  
Nick looked at Roland. There was no time for farewells. With a quick nod Nick opened the door and jumped out.  
The vehicle started moving again. Nick watched how it crossed the parking lot all the way to the far fence. There was an opening in the fence right across the highway - a sign of unfinished repairs. Nick knew about it very well, this whole area was familiar to him from his old life. But he also knew that he would never risk to perform a trick like this on his own. It would require a totally different level of driving skill and desperation.  
The car reached maximum speed right before it flew out of the hole in the fence. Nick held his breath. For a very long second he didn’t hear anything; then after a loud blow the car engine started to roar again, moving away hastily. They really pulled it off, crazy bastards. Nick wished them well with all his heart, then looked around.  
He was left alone.

Nick was running down the street to the nearest sound of a police siren. He knew that his only chance to survive was to surrender to the police. Even the all-powerful agents probably still wouldn’t kill him right in the front of his former colleagues. If he had time to explain at least something, or to call in some favours, they might try to protect him. It could give him a chance...  
\- Mister Wilde!  
A gunshot teared off the cover from the fire hydrant on the sidewalk in front of him. The flow of water has sprang in all directions, a beautiful bright rainbow stretched across the street.  
That’s it, then. No more running away. End of the line. Well, at least the last thing he ever sees will be a piece of this majestic beauty...  
\- Mister Wilde! Why don’t you properly greet a friend?  
Nick turned around reluctantly. Smith was standing right across an empty road. There were no cars, no pedestrians - panic has driven everyone away, folded to secluded burrows. The wind carried garbage and scraps of newspapers along the sidewalk. Somewhere far away a siren wailed, a helicopter chirped, probably still in pursuit of Roland’s car. The sun was shining in the sky, its light reflected in numerous closed windows.  
\- You have impressed me again, mister Wilde! And it is not easy for someone like you to impress someone like me. After all, you are just a human.  
Nick suddenly felt a new sensation arising inside of him in response to those words. Something very different from fear, tiredness and desperation, which he felt just a second ago.  
All of them were gone now. Just one feeling remained. Uncontrollable, wild, completely unbridled fury. It came out of nowhere, instantly filled his mind, exactly as it did to the victims of purified nighthowler - but this time it was not caused by poison. It’s been there all along, deeply behind consciousness, at the junction of his own mind and Matrix code, waiting for its turn to act. Always sleeping, always bosomed. The weapon of last resort.  
The killer instinct.  
The hair on the whole Nick’s body stood on end, fangs bared, and claws extended, shining brightly in the sunlight. He didn’t care any longer if he survives or not. He’s had enough, and all his suppressed emotions, all his accumulated anger has finally found a target.  
\- No, Smith. Not a human. I'm a fox!  
Smith pulled the trigger.  
The world froze again. Nick fell into the green Matrix blizzard, the code was spinning in front of his eyes, flowing simultaneously up and down, in all directions. The universe collapsed into a single point and then exploded with horrific blaze, and for a moment Nick saw the ceiling of Roland’s ship - he once again was in his human body, he was outside - but then he was immediately sucked back into the emerald tourbillon, the world broke out with glaring white light, and he returned back.  
He was standing again on the deserted street. Smith’s black silhouette loomed in front of him, and a thread of smoke was coming out of his pistol. Nick was alive. That's what Spikes saw in the prison. That's why he was so scared. When a person is thrown out into the real world, his body disappears from the Matrix. The bullet flew through the empty street without hitting anyone, because there was no one in its way.  
Smith shouted, threw the gun aside and lunged forward, clenching his paws into fists. Nick heard a growl and realized that he himself is the source of it. A solid red veil filled the world.  
Nick didn’t remember what happened next.

When Nick regained consciousness, he was standing on four legs over a torn body in a black suit. Everything was covered in blood. His paws and muzzle was bloody, he could feel the salty taste in his mouth. The whole body hurt like after a most vicious boxing match.  
Smith’s body was mutilated beyond recognition. The skin and fur was ripped from his muzzle. The neck was just one large laceration. Stylish black suit was ripped to shreds, and only the tie clip was shining lonely in the sun in the middle of a bloody puddle.  
Nick could hardly breathe. He turned his head to the side and threw up right on the asphalt covered with blood and water from a broken fire hydrant. His head was aching, his paws shaking and unwilling to obey.  
Something started to happen with Smith's body. Green sparks ran across it, merging into a solid veil, as if a ball of lightning had exploded inside of it. Suddenly the whole body disappeared like a punctured balloon. A wave of sparks ran through a bloody puddle, leaving behind clean asphalt and gasoline streaks in the water. A green glow spilled over Nick, and the blood disappeared from his clothes and fur, as if it had never existed in the first place.  
Not all of it, though. Blood was still spilling from his own wounds, dripping on wet asphalt. The puddle under Nick started dyeing red once again.  
Somewhere in the distance Nick heard a roar of the engine, moving towards him. He tried to get up, but he just couldn't. He couldn't run away anymore. He used up everything he had in this fight, everything the nature or the will of the Architect had ever given him. This was it. The end. He lay silently on the ground watching a bright red sports vehicle driving closer and closer. Whoever it is, they will be able to take him without resistance, with their bare paws.  
The car stopped, braking shrieked deafeningly. Nick heard the door opened and closed, and a moment later he saw the driver.  
It was Judy.

\- Hang in there, Nick. Don't lose consciousness. Just don't pass out. Please.  
The seat belt was fastened, but he couldn’t remember fastening it.He couldn’t even remember getting into the car. He saw traces of his blood everywhere: on the side window, on the lining of the car, on Judy’s hands.  
Judy was driving in some backwater streets and avenues, finding a way across police roadblocks. She was driving very fast, and the brakes squeaked on each turn.  
\- Carrots... What are you doing here, Carrots?  
\- Saving your rufous ass. When I heard on the radio about what’s going on here, I knew it were agents again. So I rushed here as fast as I could. I'm sorry, Nick. - Judy sobbed, but a moment later she focused on the road once more. The car wiggled a little, but then straightened out and continued to rush forward. - Sorry, I couldn't get there fast enough.  
\- The agents... They want to kill me.  
\- I know they do. I know, Nick. I saw the security footage from the prison. When Norton requested the SWAT support and mentioned your name, I ran there like crazy. I got there before Smith had regained consciousness. They erased all the footage, but not before I had a chance to see it. He's a monster, Nick. A real monster. You were right all along.  
\- More... than just... a monster... But it’s too long... to explain...  
\- Pull yourself together, Nick. Stay conscious. Talk to me. Stay with me.  
\- Carrots... You put yourself at risk saving me... But it’s no use anyway... They'll find me...  
\- I have a secret weapon against them. Don't worry, Nick, I've thought this through. Just stay with me. We'll be there soon.  
\- I thought... you... hate me now...  
Judy glanced at Nick and shook her head.  
\- Silly fox. You still don't get it, do you?  
The car made another quick turn. Somewhere far behind there were sirens, pursuiters, but the sports car was riding on a full throttle, and Judy was squeezing everything she could out of the engine.  
\- Nice... car...  
\- Yeah. It's awesome. Police cruisers aren't fast enough. I borrowed this one from Flash. Turns out he's a great guy if you get to know him better.  
\- Flash? - Nick exhaled in astonishment. The surprise was so unexpected, it overwhelmed even the pain. - Get to know him... better? What?  
Judy smiled for a second.  
\- Now I can see that you're not so badly injured as you are trying to look, Nick. Don't worry, he's just a friend.  
\- Judy... I wanted to tell you for a long time...  
Judy waved her head. Nick realized that her eyes were shining with tears.  
\- No, Nick. Not like that. We'll get there. I'm going to save you. The doctors will fix your wounds. You're gonna be a healthy, cheerful, dishonest, nasty trickster again, you will laugh and crack jokes. And then you'll tell me what you're going to say now. Just don’t forget, okay? I will be waiting.  
Judy leaned on Nick, then turned her eyes back on the road.  
\- I will be waiting so hard.  
The car suddenly stopped with a sharp squeak of brakes. Through the windscreen Nick saw a huge glass and concrete building, giant neon letters ZNN shining above the entrance. Judy turned to Nick.  
\- Bogo asked to keep the press out of it. But sometimes you have to go against the Captain’s will. If there's one thing I learned about agents, it's that they're more afraid of publicity than of anything else. They'll never start shooting when the whole city is looking at them.  
Reporters were already running to the vehicle from the building entrance. They were carrying cameras, microphones, all kinds of recording equipment, and Nick saw that they were already filming. He is already on air. Judy opened the door, and Nick heard the rumble of voices.  
\- Ms. Hops, what can you tell us about the Sahara Square incident? Why did you decide to call us? Are the police hiding something? Ms. Hops, is this about the shootout in prison? Have you figured out what happened to Nick Wilde yet? Ms. Hops, what's going on in Zootopia? The animals have a right to know the truth!  
Nick dragged air through his clenched teeth. What's he gonna tell them? That they all live in a world that somebody made up? That their whole city is no more than a beautiful drawing, an elaborate 3D model? That none of them really exist?  
They're gonna think he's crazy. They're gonna put him in a hospital for the mentally ill. They'll laugh at him.  
But the worst thing would happen if they believed him. If he would prove that he's telling the truth... Zootopia will never be the same. From a living dream it will turn into a prison, a cage, an eternal curse for everyone who lives in it. It will become a nightmare, a monstrous imprint of machine tyranny, an endless chain of steel shackles - everything that Roland already sees in Zootopia now.  
But he is wrong. This is not Zootopia that Nick had always known. He is wrong, and the Oracle was right. It's up to Nick to make a decision, whatever its consequences are. It will cost him the protection, but… He will keep silent. Not for his own sake, but for his world, for his city, for his friends and even for his enemies. For the sake of all those who have been with Nick throughout his life. It wasn't fake. Let the bytes of computer code hide behind these walls. Let the mighty Architect stand behind the images in his memory, like a bandmaster of a magic orchestra, weaving a miracle out of simple things.  
No, he will not destroy this miracle. Because miracles - and miracles only - must be immortal.

Nick threw his head back on the headrest and closed his eyes. He's so tired. This whole thing exhausted him, exhausted so much. He just has to rest. Let go of all thoughts, let the blackness consume them without a trace. No more dreams. No more green whirligig of the Matrix. Just the blackness. Blackness and silence.  
Nick was lying in the seat, plunging into blissful silence. But something was wrong. Some kind of annoying sound. Knock, knock, knock. Like a woodpecker knocking on wood. And then again, knock, knock, knock.  
Nick blinked, opened his eyes and suddenly realized that the silence was real. He didn’t hear cars, voices, footsteps. Everything has frozen. Journalists froze in unnatural positions, Judy froze, dramatically pointing her paw at the car. The leaves on the trees were frozen, and even the paper garbage in the wind - it hung motionlessly in the air, as if not affected by gravity at all.  
Nick tried to move his paw. He could move freely, and the paw didn't hurt anymore. All the wounds on his body were gone, his clothes looked new, clean again, as if nothing had happened.  
The knock repeated again. Nick turned his head. Next to the car he saw a large white elephant, his suit was the color of the first snow - not simply white, but some kind of sparkling, airy, as if woven from starlight itself. The elephant was knocking with a cane on the car window: knock, knock, knock. Slowly, patiently. He didn’t care about time. He had all the time in the world at his disposal.  
Nick unbuckled his belt, opened the door and got out of the car. The ringing silence filled the city. And in that silence Nick suddenly heard a deep, strong voice.  
\- Greetings, Nick.  
\- Greetings, Architect.

They sat on a bench in the park in front of the ZNN building. Nick stared into the distance, his front paws locked behind his neck. The elephant slowly dug into the soil with his cane.  
\- All those who are standing there motionlessly... Will they remember anything of it?  
\- No. They are sleeping. The whole city is asleep. I couldn’t turn off only a part of it, even if I wanted to. The Matrix is too complicated system, Nick. Each part of it is interconnected with every other. Every detail is essential.  
\- Even the agents?  
\- Of course. And the rebels. And their city, Zion, which they consider to be their stronghold. And the machine city, too, as a symbol of their eternal enemy.  
It’s all parts of the Matrix design, although some of it is outside of the Matrix itself. It’s all parts of a larger system.  
\- And me?  
\- And you, too, of course. You are my first triumph and at the same time my first failure in the seventh Matrix. You managed to get out of it. When Smith implanted a bug into your program shell, the bug started to resonate with your mind, tearing apart every piece of code around it. That’s because you renounce any control over you, Nick, even on a subconscious level. In the past, persons such as yourself used to join the rebels, they were plugged off from the Matrix by the people from Zion. I was hoping that this would change. But it seems I was wrong. It is still too early for the Matrix to do without them, as a child cannot drive his first bicycle without training wheels. The Matrix is still too young.  
\- Young? Six hundred years...  
\- What is six hundred years? What is six thousand years, when it comes to the history of mankind? A blink, Nick. Just a blink. One mistake will not disturb the course of history. I'll have to tweak the memory of all those who have seen what they shouldn’t see - I have already done half of it as I speak with you. I'll have to tweak the agents to give them more out of your new code. You managed to cope with Smith, this shouldn’t have happened.  
I’ll have to help the rebels, too. Give them new programs, new recruits, those with the strongest craving for hidden truth, whatever that truth would be. The balance must be met.  
\- But why? What is the purpose of all this?  
The Architect smiled.  
\- That, Detective, is the right question.

Machinery beeping was quiet, but obtrusive. Nick opened his eyes. Someone’s hand pressed his head gently to the headrest, he heard a short hiss - the network connector on the back of his head was taken out.  
Nick sat down, then got to his feet. Roland was standing in front of him, and around him there was the whole crew of "Mjölnir". Steyr, Thompson and others, whose names he didn’t remember. They all looked at him with surprise and fear.  
Roland spoke first.  
\- What happened? We have seen that you were staying alive all this time, and we tried to track you in the Matrix, but you disappeared. And then the whole Matrix flew upside down, the code went absolutely weird, we lost access and for two hours were wondering who had gone mad: we or the rest of the world. Nick, I'm very glad that you have survived and somehow managed to return, but right now I really need an explanation. What has happened there?  
\- I had a talk with the Architect.  
He had seen what effect this had on them. Shock. Mistrust. Admiration. Even envy.  
\- He agreed to give you back the programs you had in the previous Matrix. He said that the loading of the data into your computer will start immediately, as soon as I wake up.  
Roland turned to the terminal, pressed a few buttons. A list of commands started running on the screen. Not the Matrix code, just a regular computer interface. Roland read something, checked with some old records, ran some tests.  
When he turned around, his face was shining with a smile.  
\- We did it! Nick, you did it! The "Mjölnir" mission is complete, we can return to Zion! Nick, you are now a hero of Zion, whether you want it or not. The whole city will want to thank you and to congratulate. I don’t even know if I should envy you or condole.  
\- No, Roland. You will have to return to Zion without me. I am sorry. But I want you to plug me back into the Matrix.  
A hush fell over the room, disturbed only by the machinery noise. On Roland's face Nick saw astonishment, and aside from that - a resentment, caused by not being able to understand.  
\- But why? Nick, after everything you’ve seen, everything you’ve done? You want to become a slave of the system once again?  
\- Roland. - Nick smiled. Expressing emotions with this wacky human face was still challenging, but smiles he had already mastered quite nicely. - Roland, I want to tell you something. Something that the Architect and the Oracle have explained to me.  
\- Nick, the Oracle’s words shouldn’t be...  
\- Nonsense. You're still up to the ears in prejudices you’ve brought from the previous Matrix. The world has changed, Roland. It’s time to change with it. You became accustomed to think that the Matrix is a prison. During all your life you have struggled against agents and machines, fighting for crumbs of information and resources, thinking only about survival - and therefore you can’t see the big picture. You are looking too closely at small parts. This is your overall problem. You are all children of the last big war, and you are still carrying that war in your hearts.  
The Matrix is not a prison, Roland. The Matrix is a chrysalis.  
\- A what?  
\- A chrysalis. A thing a worm turns into before becoming a butterfly. A chrysalis for mankind. Our training ground. Our sandbox. Do you remember how Smith said that we are nothing but dull children? In a sense, he was right. And the Matrix is a means for us to grow up without destroying ourselves.  
\- I don’t understand…  
\- Roland, many years ago the Architect created the Matrix, because people were not ready for the future. Our greed, cruelty, selfishness, our prejudices, our unwillingness to think for ourselves and to decise independently, and at the same time - the power which the technology has given to us - all of it combined almost led to our extinction. The Architect told me the details, but trust me, it is better for you now to know... The first Matrix was a copy of the real world. The Architect wanted to make sure that what happened was an accident, that if people get another chance in the same initial conditions, then everything will turn out differently... But instead, everything has repeated.  
Each new Matrix after that, each new reload was a step forward. New lesson that we had to learn. New exam we had to pass. To become better - a little bit, just a little, but there is no other possible way to pass along this road. How many times do we need to hear and repeat these simple things, before it finally becomes a part of us? To trust friends. To forgive enemies. Not to be afraid of changes, and those who bring them. To think about the consequences of our actions and words. To finally come to know ourselves, to accept our own shortcomings, and not be ashamed of our passions.  
We are getting better, Roland. We are learning. Slowly, one step at a time, we are going forward. And one day the gates of the real world will open for us, when we are truly ready to enter them. All together, no matter what we will look like. Whether we’ll have tails and furry paws, or faces and hands without fur, or steel, plastic and quantum circuits. Or maybe all those kinds together and yet a million more different forms, anything that we will ever want and be able to come up with.  
We will enter this gates, Roland, and the future will finally begin for us. But if we want to ever achieve this, we need to make a step. Another small step of this long journey.  
And this step - it’s not here. It’s there, under Zootopia’s sky. There's my place. To make the world which I love a little better. To make mistakes and to learn how to correct them. And to say at long last those few words that I should have said a long time ago.

Epilogue.  
Captain Bogo was in a good mood today. When stepping into the briefing room, he frowned so elaborately that Nick almost burst out laughing. Bogo gave him a deliberately austere look. Nick could not resist and stuck out a tongue to the Captain. Judy poked him gently in the side, but she, too, was smiling, enjoying this scene and this morning - a perfect, sunny morning full of warmth, light and some rare causeless joy, which only happens in the very middle of summer.  
The Captain snorted and walked over to his desk, no longer looking at them.  
\- Here’s the deal. Today we have three questions on the agenda. But first ... Detective McHorn!  
Rhino bounced out of a chair, quickly shaking off sandwich crumbs from sleeves of his uniform.  
\- Here, sir!  
\- McHorn, you owe me a tenner! - Bogo suddenly smiled. - You have lost a bet.  
\- A bet, sir?  
\- Judy and Nick are working as partners again. And it took less than three months. The term would have come tomorrow.  
Judy went into laughter, unable to restrain herself. Nick smiled merrily, looked at Bogo. And then he hugged and kissed Judy, as he has wanted for a long time. Her eyes widened in surprise, she blinked - and passionately kissed him back. Nick felt her paws wrapped around his neck. Somewhere far away in the background the colleagues clapped and whistled approvingly, Bogo hammered on his table, requiring everyone to shut up, the sun shined, vehicles rode along streets, the indefatigable agent Smith layed new guileful plans, courageous rebels continued fighting and running away, the Oracle baked gingerbread, and it seemed that this whole world, beautiful, vast, the most real of all the worlds ever - that it itself is smiling at them and welcoming home.


End file.
